Playing with Fire
by Potions for Foxes
Summary: After getting out from Juvenile hall, being forcibly reunited with his father, and forced to move to a town in the middle of nowhere you’d think Ed’s life would be hellish enough. That is until he met Envy Sloth and Insanity. Warnings: pyromania slash etc
1. Fire Sign

So, well. Um. Well , this is my first serious fanfic. That is to say, it's the first one written with the intent of posting. However, for those of you who saw the phrase "this is my first…", don't worry. I'm a good writer. That probably came off as horribly egotistical, but it's the truth. The only reason I'm able to admit to being good is because I've been told that so many times and it's finally sunk in.

So, about the fic. A friend and I came up with the idea last year and 've only just now started working on it (this should give you some idea of proctrastination I'm capable of.). However, this was a good thing, seeing as my writing style has gotten better and so has my general level of creativeness. I'd say that this is one of my best works (aside from the 160+ story I'm writing and plotting to publish), mainly because I have a working plot.

This part is written by me. And edited by me. And I have the spelling/grammar check set on formal (but not so formal that it gets annoyed at first person usage).

Disclaimer: I don't own Ed or FMA, otherwise, well, there'd be a different target audience. All the characters that you don't recognize are MINE! Unfortunately, it's not possible to copywright ideas (just text), so you could write about a gay surfer with peircings and an attitude named Geoffery, but I'd like to think it wouldn't be as good.

**Playing with Fire**

_Because if you play with fire, you're going to get burned_

Chapter One: The Fire Sign

"Bring the defendant in," Judge Amelia called, rubbing her eyes. The last case (shoplifting) had been unusually long and difficult, owing to the far too numerous parents and step-parents that vixen had. One was sure of her innocence, another convinced of her guilt, her father didn't give a damn, her step-mother was worried, and her aunt (who had custody of the little witch) was drunk. Needless to say, Amelia wasn't particularly happy to see the next defendant.

The defendant, unlike most of the numerous teenagers that passed through Amelia's juvenile court, was not slouching, scowling, or wearing pants that defied laws of gravity. Instead he was dressed in black slacks and a bright white shirt. His hair was a different story. Amelia, who'd seen just about everything from skinheads to mullets, raised an eyebrow. The boy, (Edward H. Elric, according to the transcript) wore his hair like a girl; long and French-braided. Amelia had never seen anything like that before.

"The transcript says you were originally detained and arrested for setting the San Diego City Firehouse, Resembool District on fire, is that correct?" Amelia said with a straight face. One of the bailiffs snickered, but fell silent when Amelia looked at him. This was a courthouse, not Comedy Central.

"Yes, ma'am," the boy said. Amelia searched his face for any sign of insolence. There was none. Strange, Amelia thought, twisting her gold wedding band. She glanced at the transcript. It stated that Edward was believed to have pyromania. Amelia hid a smile. She'd always been interested in pyromaniacs. Her brother had been one, before he burned himself to death in an abandoned building.

"And you're appealing that conviction?" Amelia asked, reading from the transcript.

"Yes, ma'am," Edward said.

"The transcript reads 'Edward H. Elric has recently been diagnosed with pyromania and is currently taking Luvox for the symptoms.' Is that correct Mr. Elric?"

"Yes," the boy replied. Amelia riffled through the papers before coming to the one dealing with guardianship and custody. Edward's was surprisingly short, but just as confusing as the previous defendant's. Instead of having five names crammed on to two lines, it was eerily blank. The only other time Amelia had come across a transcript like this was when she was dealt with a sixteen year old from somewhere in Eastern Europe. Apparently, reaching one's sixteenth year there was such an achievement it warranted full rights. Edward, however, was clearly both American and under 18.

"It states that you aren't living with any legal guardian or parent, can you explain?" Amelia asked. A look of surprise and apprehension jolted across Edward's face. Amelia carefully hid a smirk. Most of the juvenile delinquents she saw didn't realize she looked for things other than obvious guilt in determining the length and degree of the defendant's punishment.

"Umm," Edward said with a nervous glance around the room. "Pinako was a friend of my mom's. She was a doctor before she retired and helped my mom—

"I'm afraid that wasn't the question," Amelia said gently.

"Oh!" Edward exclaimed. He bit his lip nervously before continuing, "My mom, she," Edward paused before finishing. "She died. Of cancer, last year."

Amelia looked properly shocked.

"That was unfortunate, and I am sorry for your loss," Amelia said, missing Edward's surprised smile as she reshuffled the papers. She never understood how the transcripts could be so thorough in some places and completely vague in other areas. How was she supposed to be able to make an unemotional and detached judgment about a child who'd recently lost his parent.

"Can you tell me a bit about who you were living with before your arrest," Amelia said, glancing down at the place labeled Father/Male Guardian/Alternative Female Guardian. It too was blank.

"I was living with Pinako, her granddaughter Winry, and my brother Al," Edward said, his voice thickening when he reached his brother's name.

"Were you happy there?" Amelia asked, before realizing just how stupid that question was. Of course he wasn't happy. His mother had just died. And he was obviously troubled because normal kids don't set the local fire station on fire.

"I guess," Edward shrugged.

"They didn't hurt me or anything." Edward added, misinterpreting Amelia's look.

"Why did you set the fire?" Amelia satisfying her burning desire to question a pyromaniac's motives. Granted she had a list of symptoms in her sheaf of papers, but it was so much more thrilling to hear it first hand, before the doctors and analysts had sterilized it.

Edward looked intensely uncomfortable and shifted around.

"I," he started, before stopping as his face burned red. "I've always liked fire. It's rather … interesting to watch."

Amelia nodded. Most people found flames mesmerizing. However, she'd heard that pyros got a little more than just aesthetic pleasure from the flames.

"It was weird, I'd get, umm pretty, err excited when I thought about fire."

"Excited, can you explain further?" Amelia asked trying not to sound over eager. This type of questioning brought back memories of the real courts, before she decided to have a family and work part time. This case was a real treat compared to the previous one. That one merely reminded her of being a new judge, assigned to the most trivial cases.

Edward flushed a deep crimson. Amelia raised her eyebrows imploringly. Edward looked at his feet before starring beseechingly at Amelia. Amelia's expression did not change. Eventually Edward cracked.

"Excited in that way," Edward tried to elaborate, waving his hand vaguely.

"Be more precise Mr. Elric," Amelia said allowing her impatience to creep into her voice. She didn't have all the time in the world and she was already off schedule. As soon as she was finished here, it was off to her daughter's kindergarten graduation. Something Amelia wouldn't miss for the world, let alone an adolescent pyro.

Edward sighed and tried again.

"Sort of like when I'd think of a gu—rl," Edward said not lifting his eyes from the floor.

"Aroused?" Amelia supplied dispassionately. Edward nodded silently, practically radiating embarrassment.

"And what did you feel after you set the fire?" Amelia asked, glancing down at the list of symptoms. He fit the list perfectly. Of course he might've already been asked these questions, but the embarrassment seemed real.

"A release," Edward supplied simply, refusing to admit that it had less to do with the fire and more to do with certain movements of his hand.

"Are you familiar with the symptoms of pyromania?" Amelia asked leaning forward.

"Aside from my own, no. The doctors asked questions about practically every mental illness," Edward replied with a shy smile. Amelia glanced at the reams of Edward and the psychiatrist's conversations. There were certainly enough papers to indicate they had been searching for more than pyromania. In fact, some of the questions seemed to be geared toward depression and bi-polar disorder.

"Your change of plea has been accepted. Edward H. Elric is hereby cleared of charges against due to relevant insanity/mental illness. But before you go Mr. Elric, I want to make sure you realize that the court can't just let you live with a family friend, especially when your father is still alive," Amelia said, catching Edward's look of horror and shock.

"I—

"Your Honor," Edward's hitherto silent lawyer spoke. "His father cannot be found at the moment."

"Explain," Amelia said in her chilliest voice.

"The are no records of Hohenheim's death, but all the contacts we have are outdated," the lawyer said, Amelia squinted at him before recognizing him. He was Ned Simmons, DA and general aide of the courthouse.

"Here," Amelia said scribbling down a court order, "Mr. Elric can live with the Rockbells until his father shows up."

Edward looked elated.

"But, Mr. Elric, I want you to realize that your father has sole custody and that you will be living with him when he shows up," Amelia said. "Is that clear?"

"Crystal," Edward replied with a sad smile.

"Court dismissed, you are a free man Mr. Elric," Amelia said with a smile.

Ed walked out of the courthouse and was promptly blinded by the sunlight. He blinked several times. How long had it been since he had see the whole sky without it being marred by barbed wire?

Ed counted in his head, he'd set the station on fire in the in late July and it was now November, if he remembered correctly. That was five months. Had it really been that long, Edward thought, tugging at his shirt collar. Even though it was the beginning of winter in the rest of the world, it was stifling in San Diego.

"Waiting for your ride?"

Ed spun around to see a brown haired woman dressed in varying shades of fuchsia, complete with fuchsia satin trimming on her leopard skin stilettos. Ed stared at her. He would've remembered her if she'd been in the court room.

"I'm Amelia," the woman said, pulling out a pair of over sized sunglasses and putting them on. "I was your judge."

"Oh," Ed exclaimed, "I didn't—

"It's okay, most people don't," Amelia said. Ed stared at her. It was true, this fashionista bore no resemblance to the stern woman in courtroom black.

"So who's picking you up?" Amelia asked, scanning the streets for her ride. Her niece was picking her up and she was looking for the telltale signs of the car (screeching brakes, yelling pedestrians, and the blur of pink).

"I—I think Pinako is," Ed lied. In truth he had no idea of how he was getting home. He didn't even know if the Rockbells had heard of his retrial let alone his acquittal.

"If you want you can borrow my cell," Amelia offered, still searching traffic for her niece's fuchsia Corvette.

"Thank you," Ed said as he took the leopard print cellphone (trimmed with pink rhinestones) from Amelia's hand.

"Don't mention it," Amelia said as Edward dialed the Rockbells' number. It rang three times before someone picked up.

"Hullo?" It was Al.

"Al!"

"Who is this?" Al asked sounding terribly confused.

"This is Ed, your brother," Ed said, surely Al recognized his voice.

"Er, I'll get Pinako," Al said. Ed frowned, why wasn't his brother happy to hear him?

"Hello?"

"Hi, Pinako, this is Ed," Ed said hoping that she'd remember him.

"Any news on your sentence?" Pinako asked, sounding slightly preoccupied.

"I've been acquitted."

"That's good to hear, so when are you getting out?" Pinako asked.

"I'm already out," Ed said, trying to hide his annoyance. He still didn't see why Al didn't want to talk to him.

"Oh!" Pinako exclaimed, "Where should I pick you up?"

"Um, I'm at the courthouse on—

"Eastwood and Crescent, opposite Laundromat and Sushi bar," Amelia supplied not taking her eyes off traffic. Ed dutifully repeated back the instructions.

"Okay, I'll be over there in a jiffy," Pinako said hanging up.

"Here's your phone," Ed said handing the animal print and glitter monstrosity back to its owner.

"Thanks, and Edward, don't be surprised if your family is a bit distant," Amelia said "You've been gone for how long?"

"Five months," Ed answered.

"Yes, that's long enough to learn how to live without someone. But don't worry, I'm sure that once you all adjust, you're going to be fine," Amelia smiled. "That's my ride!"

Ed starred as a bright pink Corvette skidded to a stop right in front of them. The driver was the typical beach babe complete with wet marks from her bikini. Ed eyed her dispassionately. She wasn't his type.

"Eva, out, I'm driving," Amelia called as Eva tossed her the keys and moved over into the passenger seat.

Ed waved goodbye as Amelia pulled away from the curb. He flinched as Amelia gunned the engine and went from zero to sixty far too quickly. This was by far one of the strangest days he'd ever had.

Ed sighed. If J-hall hadn't been so terrible, he would've felt guilty about getting out on account of pyromania. The reason he had set the fire hadn't been poor impulse control, well, his lack of impulse control did contribute to it, but wasn't the cause.

He didn't set the fire because he wanted to watch it burn or watch the firemen put it out. He did it because he was drunk and dared to.

It all started a few months after his mother's death. Ed had been sitting in one of the back allies getting ready to light a leaves on fire. He remembered the bright red of his lighter and how it glinted in the sun light. He'd just been about to slip his hand down his board shorts and boxes when something crashed outside the alley. Ed froze, his hand hovering right above his waistband.

"Don't come back ya stupid cat!" someone shrieked as a cat yowled. Ed smiled and his hand continued its deviant journey downwards. Ed stroked his rough patch of hair, imagining someone else's hot hand down there. With a practiced flick Ed set the first dry leaf on fire and simultaneously grasped himself firmly. Edward threw his head back and let loose a throaty moan, before trailing long nailed fingers up and down his length. Jacking off to fire was so much more satisfying than doing so to other images. Ed never thought about what that meant, he was too busy enjoying how it felt.

After a good five minutes of delicate teasing, Ed reluctantly sped up his pace. He couldn't take long otherwise his absence would be noticed. He was so involved in his task at hand that he failed to notice the crowd of tough looking boys gathered around.

"Jacking off to fire," one of them muttered "Now that's hardcore."

"Told you he was pyro," a tall lanky kid muttered, smirking triumphantly.

"I'd have never guessed, he always seems like such a—" a gangly black haired

kid said.

"Teacher's pet," his red streaked twin supplied.

"Yeah," a red head said breathlessly, starring at Ed's hunched figure.

"Think he's hot, Jeff," the red streaked twin taunted.

"Does he light your fire?" the black haired one added.

"Shut up!" Jeff said speaking louder than he should.

"Shhh," the tall towhead with a gash across his right eye said. Everyone fell silent. "Mark, Davis, don't tease Jeff. He can't help it, and besides, he's the one who found out about Pyro." The towhead pointed at Ed when he said the last remark.

"But—

Mark was cut off by one of Ed's particularly loud moans.

"He's going to come!" Jeff whispered.

"Watch him often, do we?" Davis taunted in a whisper. Jeff shoved him.

"Slash—

Jeff's whine was cut off by Ed's keen. Jeff watched as the small boned boy stiffened before suddenly relaxing into a boneless heap. Jeff couldn't help but admire the blonde's supple form and the way the sun glinted off his long golden hair. The boy was far prettier than any girl, or at least, that's what Jeff thought.

Mark stepped forward. Jeff flinched. The poor blonde was going to be rudely ripped from his pleasant state of mind.

"Don't," the towhead said placing a tan arm across Mark's chest. "Wait till he can think a bit clearer." Jeff bit back a smile. He always liked watching the look of satiated happiness dance across the blonde's face.

Ed relaxed back into the crate. He smiled slightly as he felt the San Diego sun warm his face. It was a beautiful. Still it was getting late, and he needed to be home before Al started to worry. With that thought, Ed slowly opened his eyes.

Instead of seeing the abandoned alley, like he had expected, Ed saw bare legs and flip flops, with one pair of sandals. Ed blinked several times, and when the legs did not disappear, looked upward.

He was met with the sight of four boys. Two of them looked similar enough to be brothers, if not twins. The only difference that Ed could see was that one had chosen to streak his dyed black hair with red. The other was a bare-chested redhead who nearly gasped in shock when he met Ed's eyes. Ed smothered a snort. Most people had that reaction to his so-called golden eyes. (They were hazel, dammit!).

The last boy, a towhead, was dressed differently. For one he was the owner of the sandals. Secondly, he wore a loose unbuttoned shirt instead of the regular tank top. However the thing that really set him apart from all the rest was the scarred-over gash across his right eye. Ed gulped slightly. He'd just been caught jacking off to fire (as opposed to naked girls) by some of the toughest kids in school.

"Interesting … fetish you have there," the towhead spoke confirming Ed's thoughts.

"Err you see it—

"We're not going to make fun of you," the red streaked guy said with a dangerous smile.

"Shut it, Mark," the towhead said elbowing Mark Red-Streaks into silence. "Like I said, we don't want to make fun of you. We'd like you to join us."'

Ed just starred at them. It wasn't exactly normal to have four guys watch him jack off and then offer to befriend him. Still, Ed didn't want to know what would happen if he said no. Besides, Russell had made it clear that he didn't want to hang out with some gay-ass fag. The only other choice was hanging out with Winry, a surefire way to commit social suicide.

"Sure, why not?" Ed said, making no move to rise. The towhead gave the redhead a significant look. The redhead smiled slightly before offering Ed his right hand. Ed cursed silently. He hadn't had a chance to clean his hand after pleasing himself.

The redhead's smile didn't waver.

Ed reluctantly grasped the redhead's hand, blushing at the sticky mess. The redhead's only reaction was to smile and drag Ed to his feet. Suddenly Ed had a very good view of a tanned toned chest and a nipple piercing. Ed's mouth watered and his cock twitched. Piercings were another one of Ed's numerous fetishes.

"I'm Jeff, pleasure to meet you," the taller boy drawled, tugging Ed closer before releasing him. Ed took a step back.

"I'm Ed," he said, noticing the Jeff still hadn't cleaned his hand.

"I'm Mark," Mark stated, "That's my twin, Davis." Davis nodded.

"That's Slash," Jeff said, jerking his head towards the towhead. It was Ed's turn to nod.

"You know how to surf?" Slash questioned his eyes challenging Ed.

"Of course," Ed said responding to the unspoken challenge.

"Got a board?"

Ed nodded.

"Get it and meet us back here in five," Slash said in his deep, deep voice that Ed found rather sexy. Ed turned and walked off a few paces before glancing over his shoulder. Jeff was the only one still looking. He caught Ed's eye, before raising his right hand and giving it a long sensuous lick. Ed's eyes nearly popped out of his head. That was either the most erotic thing he'd ever seen or the most disturbing, Ed wasn't quite sure.

Not wanting to seem completely standoffish, Ed waved hesitantly back. Jeff smirked in return and continued to "clean" his hand. Ed shivered. Sure the redhead was attractive, but something about him didn't seem right. Ed knew Al would never stand for it. Though Al would never stand for anything like … that. Al was still trusting, naïve, and Catholic.

Ed was brought back to the present by a squeal tires. He looked up, expecting to see the fuchsia Corvette. Instead he was met with the more terrifying sight of Winry behind the wheel of Pinako's ancient station wagon. Pinako looked equally terrified, though not as shocked as Ed felt.

Pinako got out of the station wagon looking a bit shaken. Ed hoped that it was only because of Winry's parallel parking skills (or lack thereof).

"Out Winry," Pinako said upon exiting the car.

"But—

"You're not allowed to drive with passengers," Pinako said, snatching the keys. Ed breathed a sigh of relief. As it was, he got terribly carsick, making even the shortest rides pure misery, unless he was loaded up on that one drug, Dramamine was it? But he had been told not to take any sort of drug without checking to see how it would interact with the Luvox. Ed wasn't particularly inclined to see how a new, flighty driver would affect his motion sickness.

Winry practically flounced around the front and yanked open the door to the front seat. Ed sighed again. He hated riding in the back, mostly because Trez Pies, Winry's three legged dog, always breathed down Ed's neck and slobbered on his ear. The smell of his saliva did nothing to help the motion sickness.

"Everybody in?" Pinako asked. No one answered. Strange, Ed thought, normally Winry's pretty chatty. Though perhaps there wasn't anything thing to tell. But that hadn't stopped her in the past. Ed remembered how often he and Al had to stop her and tell her that they'd been there and didn't need to hear it again.

He stared out the window, trying not to lose the little breakfast he hadn't eaten. The food at juvie hadn't been too bad, but he doubted that he would've been calm enough to eat anything that morning.

"So Ed, are you glad to be back?" Winry finally asked, when they were five minutes away from home.

"Yeah," Ed said about to go on but everything he had to say seemed stupid or just wrong. Telling them how much he hated it there sounded too much like complaining and saying how much he missed them just sounded sappy and sentimental.

"We missed," Winry said. "It's been different without you."

"I missed you guys too," Ed said, only now it didn't sound sincere it all. More like he was trying to remind them that he had feelings too. He had the urge to smack himself. Today was just going to be one of those days where no matter what he said, it'd be wrong. Aside from the fact that he wasn't throwing up yet and the fact that Trez Pies hadn't thrown up on Ed. Those were two things that would've happened if everything was going wrong. So now it was everything minus two, which left a large number of things that were still going wrong.

"So what's the verdict? Are you home to stay?" Winry asked, turning around to look Ed in the face.

"Well," Ed said, folding his hands. "Sorta. Apparently, Pinako's not my official guardian and the judge wants me to live with Him."

"No," Winry gasped. "Al too?"

"She didn't say anything about Al," Ed said with a smile, "Just me."

"But they don't know where he is, do they?" Winry asked. She had never met Hohenheim only heard about him from Ed and Al. However, since Ed and Al had completely different opinions of Hohenheim, Winry didn't know exactly what to expect.

The most she had gotten out of Ed before it disintegrated into angry ranting was 'He's a bastard' and later 'She'd still be alive if he hadn't left!' Al on the other, had only said 'I don't remember much, but he was nice.' Though, recently Al had admitted that it had seemed that Ed was Hohenheim's favorite, not that Al had minded at the time. He was more of his mother's son.

"Well, they're trying to find him," Ed said with a shrug. "I bet it's going to take awhile, though." Winry gave Ed a wry smile. It was probably a good thing that he didn't remember how close he'd been with his father. That would only make it worse.

"I'm sure he'll let you live with us," Pinako said, keeping her eye on the road. Ed grimaced. He didn't even want to think about his… that bastard. It was all his fault, if you really thought about. If his father had been there he wouldn't have gone into that ally on that day, and he wouldn't have… met Jeff, gotten his first kiss from a guy, surfed on Jeff's champion level (but it was a girl's board) surfboard. Still, he wouldn't have gone to juvenile hall.

You can't blame all that on him, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Al mentioned. Ed ignored it. Perhaps not all of it was That Bastard's fault. Ed had to take a little credit for himself. But Trisha never seemed to recover after that letter and photo He'd sent. The doctors said that her remission hadn't been caused by any amount of stress. Ed didn't believe them. After Hohenheim left, Trisha lost the will to live.

"Yeah, I mean, well you didn't see his last letter, but apparently his girlfriend left him," Winry said flippantly.

"Really?" Ed asked, torn between hearing about His downfall and grinding his teeth at the mention of That Tramp.

"Well, he's single now," Winry said, flipping her bangs out of her eyes.

"Do you know where—

"No, there wasn't a return address," Pinako said.

"Oh," Ed said, torn between outrage and gratitude.

Author's Notes: The fact that Ed got let off that easily for arson. Arson is considered a felony. I couldn't find anything on the arson laws relating to minors. Luvox is one of the SSRI (Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors) used to treat pyromania. It works by blocking the re-absorbtion of serotonin in the brain. This allows the serotonin to stay in the brain longer so you're more happy. (And yes, I seriously spent time researching all the SSRIs to figure out which one Ed would most likely be prescribeb. Now will you believe me when I say I'm good?)

Reviews would be nice. However, I'm not begging. Nor am I asking you to go easy on it. By all means, tear it to pieces, just do so in a constructive manner. Also, realize this: I have about 10 more pages already written and a working plot.


	2. Angel, won't you call me

So, well here we meet again. I apologize to anyone who had the story on their alert thing. I didn't know I couldn't edit it after it was made into a chapter. However, I did figure out I could edit previous chapter's names. Which is a good thing.

To the Reviewers: Thank you. Reviews make me happy but I shall do my best not to become a review whore (though I can see why it's so tempting). The story will update once every five days. This is to give me and my friend, whom we shall refer to as Insanity, time to write more chapters. I like to have at least one chapter nearly ready for uploading everytime I add a chapter. Gives me sort of a buff zone to work with. Chapter Three is about to be edited, Chapter Four is coming along nicely, and Chapter Five is currently notes that will be converted to story soon.

Disclaimer: You really think Ed would ever have hit Envy if I was in control? Seeing as Ed is still merrily hating Envy (but hate and love are soooo close...) I do not own FMA. Some Japanese guy does.

**Playing with Fire**

_Because if you play with fire, you're going to get burned_

Chapter Two: Angel Won't You Call Me

Could I be the only

Though I am a lost cause

Angel, won't you call me?

–The Decemberists, Angel Won't You Call Me?

Ed sprawled on his bed. Homecoming wasn't what he'd expected it to be. First of all Al was so cold to him. It was like he didn't remember his own brother. He practically flinched every time Ed moved. Maybe Ed was exaggerating, but even Winry seemed to be concerned, and Winry was as socially astute as Ed was straight.

Dinner had been nightmarish. The only thing Al had said to Ed was "pass the salt." While that was the shortest conversation Ed had had all day, it was certainly the most awkward. He'd always been close to Al, closer than the average sibling, and now this.

"Ed, phone!" Al yelled, jolting Ed out of his thoughts.

"Hullo?" Ed said picking up the extension in his room.

"Hey this is Jeff," an all too familiar voice said.

"Oh, hi," Ed said. Take that back, this was the most awkward conversation so far.

"Listen, are you okay, I mean it's been so long," Jeff said babbling.

"Are you calling to tell me that you have new boyfriend because—

"No," Jeff said, and Ed could just picture him laying on the floor half-naked, a completely puzzled look on his face. "There hasn't been anybody since you."

"I—thanks, Jeff," Ed said, feeling less awkward, "You don't know how nice it is to hear that."

"So, you up for surfing tomorrow?"

"Jeff, it's November," Ed said twisting his braid around his finger. "Besides I'm not sure if I can."

"S'okay, I bet you're all pasty, from that jumpsuit," Jeff said.

"I probably am," Ed said. He hadn't thought of that at all.

"Dude, is this the same Ed? You know, the one who secretly obsesses over his tan lines? The Edward Elric that hates milk? Oh god please don't tell me they made you drink it there!"

"Don't worry Jeff, they didn't," Ed said smiling slightly. Jeff really was a good friend, and an even better boyfriend. He always knew what to say to cheer Ed up.

"Then why are you so apathetic?" Jeff asked.

"Oh, it's probably the meds I'm on," Ed replied off-handedly. He hoped Jeff would take this well. Slash wouldn't take the news too well. He didn't believe in medication or 'practicing gays' as he put it.

"What do they have you on meds for? You're just about the most normal person I know."

"I'm a pyro, remember. Anyway, the only reason I was able to get out was because the judge decided that the arson charge was irrelevant. Something to do with Relevant Insanity or something," Ed said.

"Right," Jeff said, before sighing. "So I guess you're normal. Except for your yellow eyes."

"They're hazel," Ed growled.

"So what other things have changed?" Jeff asked, changing the subject. It was the first time he'd talked to Ed in five months and he didn't want to get into an argument over Ed's eye color, which happened to be yellow.

"Do you want me to tell you the name of the drug, so you call look up the side effects and quiz me about them, or do you want me to tell you what I'm experiencing?" Ed said. He wasn't quite sure how to tell Jeff about his lack of interest. After all, Jeff always stated that Ed was most gorgeous when he was aroused.

"You tell me," Jeff said, "They can't be that bad."

"Depends on how attached you are to me jacking off for you," Ed muttered. "Out of all the side effects I think I got landed with the worst. First off I get dry-mouth a lot and, well you know how I used to get motion sickness—

"Oh God yes, I remember that trip and so does the washing machine," Jeff replied. Ed smiled at the memory. That camping trip had been back when he was just admitting to his crush on Jeff. Vomiting all over Jeff's pants had not been fun. The fact that Jeff had to spend the weekend wearing Ed's spare pair of pants had not helped matters.

"Imagine that, now multiply it by ten, and that's what the car ride from the courthouse to here was like," Ed said. He still didn't know how he'd managed to avoid vomiting. Of course, there was the fact that he hadn't had much to vomit. This morning he'd barely eaten anything he was so nervous.

"Wow, what drug is this?"

"Luvox, but that's not the worst of it," Ed said. He wasn't even sure if it was a side effect of the drug. The doctor had neglected to mention it, but it could've been because Ed looked more like twelve than fourteen.

"What could be worse than extreme car sickness?" Jeff asked.

"Little to no sex drive," Ed answered.

"Really?" Jeff sounded appalled before falling silent. Ed listened to be the sound of Jeff typing something. He wished he could be there to watch Jeff's long talented fingers dash across the keyboard, among other things.

"Yeah," Ed replied sadly. It used to be that when he'd first entered puberty he could spend almost an hour teasing himself, only to be intensely turned on again in five minutes, if the right images presented themselves. And when Jeff was around there was no shortage of such images.

"Man that has got to suck," Jeff said.

"Yeah, the scariest thing is, I haven't really noticed it," Ed admitted.

"That is scary," Jeff said, "Especially because this website says that a 'decreased interest in sex' is a serious side effect. Didn't you notice a change when they put you on it?"

"I did," Ed admitted, twisting his hand around the end of his braid, "But it didn't seem like the right thing to mention. I mean, the doctor probably thought I was twelve."

"Well…" Jeff drawled.

"Shut up," Ed muttered. He didn't need any more grief about his height. Just the fact that Al was the same height as him was insult enough.

"Ha! They didn't take all of your personality!" Jeff crowed before continuing in a more serious tone, "Can you meet me tomorrow, by the docks?"

"I think so," Ed said. No one had said anything about his restrictions since he'd arrived. He didn't even know if he was going to be allowed into the high school. It wouldn't be worth it anyway. They'd be getting ready for finals and all sorts of testing. Ed had taken all of the classes he'd wanted to in juvenile hall (and some he didn't i.e. Shop) and probably would be able to catch up, in two weeks. Just in time for finals.

"Okay, I'll call," Jeff said. "I have to go. Mom has dinner. Love you."

"I love you too," Ed said, smiling fondly. He'd forgotten what it was like to be around normal people. Back in juvie he hadn't made many friends. A few people talked to him, but once they found out why he was there most of the kids left him alone. Ed guessed it had something to do with the idea that anyone who set a firehouse on fire must be tough. They knew so little.

"Ed!" Winry exclaimed, making Ed jump about a foot in the air. "I didn't know you had a girlfriend."

"Winry shut up!" Ed hissed at her, catching sight of Al. Al had answered the phone. Al knew it wasn't a girl. Al was going to find out in one of the worst ways possible that Ed was gay, save walking in on Ed and Jeff.

"But you just told her you loved her," Winry continued, completely flummoxed. "Besides I think it's cute, I mean she waited for you all this time, knowing in her heart of hearts that you were innocen—

"Winry," Al said quietly, refusing to make eye contact with Ed. "It wasn't a girl on the phone."

"If it wasn't, then who—Oh! _Oh_, oh," Winry's mouth finally formed an 'o' of understanding. Al nodded, before glaring at Ed and walked to his room where he closed the door with an air of silent finality.

"Are you?" Winry asked, her eyebrows still high. Ed nodded shamefully. This wasn't how he'd intended to come out.

"Oh Ed," Winry said before throwing her arms around him. Ed hugged her back awkwardly. This was the most contact he'd had with anyone in months. "I didn't know. And Al'll come around. You'll see. He was just surprised, that's all."

"What's going on?" Pinako asked, coming out of the kitchen at last. Winry tried to wriggle away from Ed but he just tightened his grip.

"Oh, Al just—you don't mind if I—

"You can tell her," Ed mumbled into Winry's shoulder. Normally he hated the fact that she was taller than he, but right now it felt so damn good to just be held for once.

"Well, Al just found out that Ed's gay and has a boyfriend and—

"Beginning," Pinako said, giving her granddaughter a strong look before giving the couch an equally strong look. Winry got the point and dragged a boneless Ed to sit on the couch. Once they were settled, with Pinako in her chair and Ed practically sprawled across Winry, Pinako cleared her throat.

"Oh, well, Al had picked up the phone and I guess it was," Winry trailed off and looked at Ed.

"Jeff," Ed said not removing his head from Winry's shoulder. Winry smiled, running her fingers through Ed's hair and across his back. He snuggled into her shoulder like a contented cat. Winry smiled again. Ed was just so impossibly cute at times. Not that he'd let her say that. He seemed to consider calling him cute one of the worst things Winry could do, besides insist that he eat lunch with her.

"Jeff and then I heard Ed telling Jeff that he loved him and isn't that so sweet—

Pinako cleared her throat again. Winry smiled brightly before continuing. Ed sunk lower in to the couch. He obviously wasn't in the mood to hear Winry coo over anything, especially his relationship.

"And I thought that it was a girl because well, Ed just doesn't seem like that and he never mentioned anything before, anyways, that's when Al heard and said that Ed was talking to a boy. And then Al just left and went into his room and—

"Breathe," Pinako said. "Don't worry Ed, Al will come around. He'll—

"But the priest, isn't he—

"Why don't you explain it so that Ed understands," Pinako said, giving her granddaughter a look that would've cowed any medical intern.

"Right," Winry said, blushing. "There's this new priest and Al's been very religious since, well you know that. But anyway, the new priest is rather conservative and well, he's—

"So there's basically no chance of him ever accepting me," Ed muttered. Slash was like that. He claimed that he was different than the right wing Christians in that he wasn't against all gays, just the practicing ones. Fortunately, Slash didn't count masturbation as "practicing." According to him, "practicing" involved an other male. Needless to say, Ed hadn't come out to Slash or Mark or Davis. The twins were just stupid enough to believe that if you place any two gays in the same place for awhile they'll starting fucking each other. Slash was just smart enough to interpret not only Jeff's longing stares, but catch Ed's furtive glances as well.

He'd been prepared for some, well a lot, shock and disgust, but not from Al. He knew he'd get it from Mark and Davis, but he'd thought that his brother, his own flesh and blood would support him. Sure Al was Catholic, but Ed could've waited to tell him. Maybe when Al was older, like around twenty… seven.

"He'll be civil if he knows what's good for him," Pinako said with a sinister grin.

Pinako's words translated into Al not going to church unless he was completely civil to Ed. That meant no sermons or visible disgust on Al's part. Al would've loved to complain that Pinako was denying him freedom of religion. But instead of arguing over the constitution (and who's pursuit of happiness trumped who's), Pinako just refused to drive Al if he didn't behave. Since the church wasn't within walking distance, it was just as effective as forbidding it completely, and it prevented Al from achieving his own form of martyrdom.

Ed sighed. It was already December and the court still hadn't found his father. Not that Ed cared in the least. But since Pinako didn't have custody of him (just a court order stating that he could live with her) she couldn't enroll him in the local school, which left Ed with absolutely nothing to do but twiddle his thumbs.

The first week back, it had been okay. The silence was a nice change from the constant noise of juvenile hall and he had his own space. He'd spent the first few days staying up late and then sleeping in. Unfortunately, Pinako couldn't stand it; She said that Ed had made a complete mess of the kitchen when he was sleep walking that morning, and informed him that unless he was up by seven, then he could do without breakfast. Ed didn't mean to make a mess in the kitchen. He normally was able to find his way around it in his sleep. Hell, he could even cook a better omelet when he was asleep than Winry could when she was awake. Unfortunately, this was before the Rockbells had remodeled the kitchen. And while Ed could find his way around the new kitchen awake, his subconscious hadn't caught up.

Ed had just gotten out of the habit of studying when Pinako sent a strongly worded letter to Judge Amelia. Within days Ed found himself enrolled (and behind) in online courses that were exactly the same as the ones he'd been taking in Juvie. Fortunately, Ed was smart and was able to catch up within days and be ahead within the week.

Then they reached mid-December, and with it, finals, and Ed, who'd already taken (and passed) them, had nothing to do.

On the first day of his unofficial break from his online courses, Ed went walking on the beach. The water was colder than normal and it was threatening to rain. Ed didn't mind; he loved the brooding look of the thunderclouds over the ocean, and it suited his mood perfectly.

After an hour or two of aimless wandering, Ed reluctantly headed back. Today was Tuesday and Pinako was at the hospital where she taught the interns. This meant that there was no one to keep him company, aside from Trez Pies, but either the dog ignored him or begged for food. Ed couldn't decide which was worse. Before he'd been arrested, Ed would've taken this opportunity to jack off as much as he wanted. But now, he didn't have the urge to. In fact, he didn't even remember the last time he'd touched himself. There hadn't been many opportunities in Juvie, and after he'd been on the Luvox, he hadn't felt the need.

Ed kicked at a weed on the sidewalk. There wasn't anything to do anymore. Jeff wouldn't be out of school until three and it was only ten o'clock now. Mark and Davis had recently moved back with their dad. Even Slash was gone. Jeff said that it was practically right after Ed got arrested that a bunch of gruesome murders started happening. The corpses were found practically exploded from the inside.

The whole town was in a panic when Slash's older brother, Scar, had been apprehended at the scene of crime carrying a rather high power, remotely detonated explosive device. Scar had been convicted of first degree murder on seven counts. He hadn't even tried to plead 'not guilty,' he just kept stating that he was doing God's work.

Ed shuddered; Scar had always given him the creeps. He was even more into that weird cult than Slash was. That alone would've been disturbing enough, but add the fact that Scar always started preaching about the crimes of homosexuality when Ed was around, and Ed was very freaked out. Of course, no one believed him, not even Jeff. It was all Ed could to do to persuade Jeff not to "accidentally" touch Ed around Scar. It was still a shock to learn that Scar actually murdered people.

Slash was now in foster care. Scar had been his guardian and mentor. As much as Ed disliked Scar, he still sympathized with Slash. He now knew what it was like to live in limbo while the court tried to hunt down a suitable guardian, that being Ed's current situation. Although he wasn't in foster care, so maybe it wasn't as bad as it could be.

Ed glared at the inoffensive door to the house as he dug around in his pocket for the spare key. There was nothing to do. He'd already cleaned the house twice this week and to Pinako's standards. Considering that Pinako had worked at a hospital and various labs for practically her whole life, that was quite an accomplishment.

However, it also meant that Ed had nothing to do. He didn't feel like reading anything on the bookshelves, nor did he feel like playing any online games. Plus, it wasn't like he had the password to the computer. Pinako was the only one who knew it, but it wasn't as though there weren't any other computers in the house. There were, they just weren't connected to the Internet.

As Ed jiggled the key into the lock, he contemplated getting some of the Christmas decorations down from the attic. However, that would really ruin it for Al. He was always the one that did the Christmas lights and other decorations. Perhaps it was Ed's propensity for losing patience with things (ladders, lights, heights, his own lack of height et cetera, et cetera) and then stomping on them. It wasn't Ed's fault that the lights refused to stick to the sides of the house. Nor was its Ed's fault when he couldn't even reach the smallest gable with the highest ladder. It just wasn't fair. And now that Al was taller…

Well, Ed didn't want anything to do with the decorations this year. Ed walked over to the counter and the phone. Out of habit more than anything, he glanced at the message machine, as both he and Al had done when their mom was ill and in the hospital.

Ed experienced the familiar jolt, before acknowledging that it probably wasn't a life altering message. Ed walked over and hit play, completely prepared for some idiot's prank call or a cell phone call of Winry's or even about a church. Anything but:

"Hi this is Ned Simmons from the D. A. department. Umm, well the court has successfully tracked down your father. He was planning on being at your house at noon to see you and your brother. Bye."

Ed paled beneath his semi-permanent tan. This couldn't be happening.

"Hi, is Pinako there?" Ed asked, twirling the phone cord around his finger. This was the fifth person he'd reached at the hospital. He'd been put on hold about half an hour and still hadn't talked to one person who knew where Pinako was.

"She's bu—

"Is she in surgery?" Ed asked. That was the one time he wasn't allowed to interrupt her. Otherwise, it was fair game.

"No, but—

"This is a family emergency," Ed said through gritted teeth.

"Well, she's teaching a class—

"This is more important!" Ed yelled. Trez Pies whined. Ed glared at him. The dog gave Ed a positively dirty look before heaving himself onto his three feet and shuffling off. Ed was too annoyed at everything to feel guilty.

"Ed? Is that you?" Pinako's voiced sounded over the phone line.

"Yes and—

"This had better be important, I was explaining the—

"That Bastard is going to be here, at this house, at noon. He wants to see Al too," Ed said. The line was quiet. Just as he was about to ask if Pinako was still there, when she replied.

"I'll be there shortly."

"Don't forget the chicken—

Ed's reminder about dinner was met with the dial tone. He sighed before hanging up the phone. This was one of the worst day's of Ed's life.

Hohenheim stared at the woman he only vaguely remembered Trisha describing. At the time, he'd only considered Pinako cheap form of babysitting. He knew nothing about her and yet she'd been the one to take care of his sons for the better part of two years.

Hohenheim watched his two boys. They'd grown since the last he'd seen them. Ed's hair was longer, long enough to be pulled back into a far too neat French braid. Guys weren't supposed to be able to braid that well. It wasn't right. The alternative was that Pinako's daughter (niece, granddaughter, Hohenheim didn't know which) had done Ed's hair. That was almost worse. Guys didn't have girls braid their hair.

Ed, instead of fidgeting as he had done last time (how long ago was that? Four years? Five? Surely not six), fixed Hohenheim with a withering glare from his seat on the couch. Someone was obviously not happy about this arrangement.

Al, on the other hand, was bubbling with excitement, though he looked worried every time he glanced at Ed. Though, that might have been due to the intensity of Ed's glare than anything that had happened recently.

Hohenheim became aware of how intense the silence was getting. He tried to think of something to say, but what do you say to your kids after you've disappeared for the better part of a decade? Hohenheim sure didn't know. The only things that came to his mind were "So, long time no see," which was cruel, and "So…" which was just plain awkward. In the end, it was Al who saved him.

"Dad, it's so nice that you came to see us," Al said with a smile. Ed's glare intensified if anything. Hohenheim glanced quickly between the two brothers. Years ago Al had been the one he couldn't understand. Al was still inscrutable, but Ed, Ed had changed.

"Would you like to go out to dinner some place? My treat," Hohenheim said, taking care not to blurt anything out. Al's face lit up.

"Yes!" he exclaimed, his whole face radiant. Ed said nothing and instead hunched further into the couch.

"Ed would you—

"No! I won't go with you! You killed her!" Ed shouted suddenly leaping to his feet. Hohenheim flinched.

"Ed you don't—

"No! It's your fault she's dead!" Ed screamed. Hohenheim noticed with a type of detached casual air that would later disgust him, the hot angry tears making tracks down Ed's face. He saw in perfect detail the wisps of blonde hair escaping his son's braid. Later he would make excuses, it was only because he was an artist that he noticed such things. Attention to detail was his business after all.

"And you!" Ed yelled rounding on Al. "You're no better than he! You think that your priest has the power to—

"Ed," Hohenheim said, a note of warning in his voice. Al was all but flattened against the back of the couch, like Ed had been minutes before.

"NO! I'm not going!" Ed said looking Hohenheim straight in the eye. Hohenheim paused for a moment to let the dispassionate artist within him examine the scene. The lighting was beautiful and he knew they made a striking picture. Weak afternoon light catching select angles and accenting them. The light refracted off their blonde hair, turned Al's eyes in to frightened sorrel pools, Ed's to bright amber. The light, dimmed to a sepia tone by the blinds, was caught, reflected, and magnified by Ed's tears. The scene resonated and reverberated and touched Hohenheim somewhere deep down. He shouldn't be moved by the site of his own son accusing him of murder, but it…

It's only the lighting, Hohenheim thought, blinking. The spell was broken. Ed wrenched his eyes away from his father's and fled. That moment was enough. He wasn't the only one who had seen the beauty of in the breakdown. Ed always had the artist's eye, something Al never understood. Of course, neither could Trisha. They couldn't see what could hold Hohenheim's attention for hours, much less hyperactive Ed's. How could mere brush strokes fascinate one for hours on end? Wasn't it just a painting, they'd ask.

"I'll go talk to him," the hitherto silent Winry said. "He's not normally like this, He's just had a rough time of it."

Hohenheim frowned. What on earth was going on?

So, questions, comments, insults? Potions For Foxes responds to all.


	3. Mobile

Sorry about the (broken) five day rule. My sister in sin, Insanity, was a bit annoyed that I posted early, which is why this is late. (Equivalent Exchange, eh?) Something about the fact that she has less time to finish her side of the story. It's not like she lost a week or anything. She still has two weeks to finish her chapters.

Thanks to: .d o g.s t a r.d r e a m s. , omniscient01200, lost.in.her.own.dreams, and roxie-san for reviewing. Sorry about not thanking you earlier.

(One of the reasons it's a good idea to review is I get mail. So instead of angsting about why I have no unread messages, I'm writing and keep my mental health somewhere near well.)

Other than that I'm going to tell you absolutely nothing about the next chapters. Though if you love foreshadowing, I'd suggest looking up the side effects of Luvox (the meds Ed's on). Luvox, and it's respective side effects, is going to play a large part in chapters to come. I'd look it up. However, I'm the type of person the actually reads the ingredients to things like shaving cream and have been known to say "Anything that's that basic can't be good! Too many hydroxides! It'll burn!" However, I have not put pH paper on Mom's shopping list (yet). I am in Chemistry and therefore have an excuse, sorta...

Character sketches do exist. Unfortunately, they're only minor characters, like the waitress (and her hair) and the Judge. I'm considering posting them on Deviant Art (maybe).

La Alta Costra is a special joke of mine. It means, in Spanish, The Upper Crust. And in my town, we have a café thing called Upper Crust. If one really does exist in San Diego, that would be awesome and a little freaky.

I don't own Naruto or X-men

**Playing with Fire**

_Because if you play with fire you're going to get burned_

Chapter Three: Mobile

Hanging from the ceiling,

Life's a mobile,

Spinning around with mixed feelings,

Crazy and wild.

—–Avril Lavigne, Mobile

It was silent on the way to the restaurant. Ed was scowling in the back seat, his bad mood practically palpable. Al was smiling apprehensively in the front seat and Hohenheim kept his eyes trained on the road. There was something going on between his boys and he was going to figure out what. He just didn't know how… yet.

Unfortunately, Ed and Al were both chronically underage, which ruled getting them both drunk, out. Damn. That happened to be Hohenheim's best plan, aside from just asking. Not that would work. Al would refuse to explain in front of Ed. And Ed, well just getting Ed to talk to him without shouting was going to be hard enough.

Hohenheim drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he came to another stoplight. He hated the amount of stop signs in this town. That was the one thing that hadn't changed. The traffic. It was still as bad as it ever was. He sighed, before glaring impatiently at the driver to the right of him. It took that blasted woman a full two seconds to realize it was her turn to go. For Hohenheim, who drove like he was in San Francisco all the time, it was two seconds too long.

Al cleared his throat slightly, reminding Hohenheim that honking his horn was not the appropriate thing to do. With a great force of will, Hohenheim resisted the urge. Though he shot the woman a dirty look. He almost wished Al, always the silent conscience of the family (so like Trisha, was she really dead?), hadn't been there. But that was stupid. Ed wouldn't have been there if Al wasn't.

This was going to be difficult; he'd never had to deal with the emotional side of things. For all that he was an artist, renown for capturing emotion, he was hopeless. Perhaps that was his one skill with emotion. The ability to translate it into something he understood: Art. However, that talent wasn't going to be of any use in this situation.

Trisha had always dealt with the emotional side of things, Hohenheim thought. Now she was… He hadn't been able to take it. There was nothing worse in the world than watching someone you love waste away until they died. He couldn't bear to watch her die, knowing there was nothing he could do.

'The cancer is so advanced.' Those had been the words he'd caught the nurses whispering to each other. Surely they had told Trisha the same thing, but he was so numb he couldn't hear it. It was too painful. She was going to die no matter what, and he couldn't bear to hope. It would just hurt more when she finally did die. He couldn't bear the pain. Besides, Trisha didn't need someone permanently teetering on the edge of a breakdown hanging around her.

But Trisha couldn't understand that. She wanted him near her, but she'd let him go. Hohenheim liked to think she'd done it for their sons, not him. After all, seeing one parent die before their eyes was enough. They didn't need to see their father become an alcoholic or go insane.

"Let's go there!" Al said, pointing to a fairly busy restaurant. In the rear view mirror, Hohenheim saw a smile ghost across Ed's face. Perhaps this was his favorite place. There was so much he didn't know, and so much he would never know.

Especially since he was only one taking. Hohenheim thought the brothers would be easy enough to manage and would get along with Sue's kids just fine. But after Ed's tirade, well, if that was how Ed took Hohenheim's mere presence, he shuddered to think of Ed's reaction upon learning that Hohenheim was engaged.

Ed smiled at the choice of restaurant. Al had picked what he thought was Ed's favorite restaurant. It wasn't that Ed didn't spend time at the place, because he did, he just had other reasons than the food.

The first time he'd come to La Alta Costra was in 8th grade. It was the second Minimum Day of the year and he had no idea of what to do. Last year he'd just gone home, and later to the hospital. But now, there wasn't any reason to hurry home. Winry's private school didn't have let them out until three and Al was in elementary school, and above all, Ed didn't want to be alone.

He'd had to stay after to take a short quiz so he missed the bus. Ed didn't feel like waiting for the three o'clock one (that came sometime between the hours of three and four). That left hitching a ride with Russell, however Russell had stayed after school for basketball practice. Ed wasn't about to sit and watch tall, fast guys run around and dunk. He wasn't that much of a masochist.

Ed had grabbed a few dollars for lunch money, before realizing that he didn't need it for school lunch. However, that meant that if he spent his money right, he could eat out. This was something of a rarity; he'd gone out with his friends, but never alone.

He been browsing around the downtown area when he walked into the least busy restaurant he saw. That was how Ed wound up at La Alta Costra. It was a café uniquely suited to its location. Its breakfasts were easy to grab and the coffees were superb. The lunch consisted of sandwiches, salad, and possibly a soup. It wasn't so pricey that high school or even junior high students couldn't afford it, nor was it so cheap that it drew the masses. This had the effect of weeding out the louder teens, and kept the adults from complaining. Ed hadn't expected the café to be as nice as it was, and it soon became his favorite.

He'd come there constantly after Russell had ditched him, and later it had made the perfect hangout for him and Jeff. At first Mark and Davis had insisted on coming with them, then stopped. Jeff said it was because of all the glares they got from the adults (all of whom seemed to be writing novels or at least newspaper articles). Ed privately thought it was the prices that discouraged them. It was simply too much for them to pay just to listen to Jeff and Ed talk about boring things. Slash wasn't a problem. He didn't believe in restaurants.

Ed sighed. Al couldn't possibly realize why he liked La Alta Costra so much, but at least it was a nice gesture. That or it was an attempt to placate Ed. Ed personally didn't care. No restaurant could make up for the torture he was about to endure.

Ed glanced at the waitress that showed them to a table near the window. Al smiled at her with sweetness that verged on vulgarity, at least in Ed's opinion, and considering the type of mood he was in, that opinion was pretty damn biased. Hohenheim politely smiled at her, but didn't flirt. That was good. Ed wasn't sure he could've handled that.

The table was decent. It wasn't right next to the door, so there weren't any drafts. But it wasn't too terribly near the kitchens. And it wasn't the booth that he always shared with Jeff. And there wasn't any pervy redhead to share it with.

Ed shook himself. Thoughts like these would get him nowhere. The unmemorable waitress disappeared into the kitchens.

"What can I get for you tonight?" the new and rather buxom waitress asked. Ed eyed her carefully. She used to work on the day shift when he first came here, her name was Amanda, he recalled. She had changed her hairstyle once again. It looked like someone had taken Sasuke Uchiha's hair added volumizing shampoo, a blow dryer, then crossed with an electrocuted Wolverine, and then hair sprayed the resulting style into place. Sadly, this was one of Amanda's more conservative hairstyles. At least she kept to the dress code of pants and a shirt.

"I'd like milk," Al said. Ed made a face. He had never been able to see how anyone could drink that stuff. It came out of a cow's well.. you know, and no matter what Mr. Pasteur had proven, Ed didn't trust it.

"Scotch on the rocks." Amanda didn't bat an eye.

"Coke?" Ed asked hopefully. He hoped the owner had finally fixed the—

"Nope. The machine's broken," Amanda replied without looking up from her pad.

"Cherry Coke?" Ed asked. He couldn't stand Pepsi. And under no conditions would he stoop to order diet anything.

"We have that," Amanda said, winking at Ed, before striding off to the kitchen, her prominent bosom parting the crowd of newer waitresses like Moses parted the Red Sea.

"So Dad," Al began, "Are we going to move in with you?"

Ed slouched into the booth. He didn't want to live with That Bastard if he could help it. That ranked pretty high on Ed's Things Never to Do And Are To Be Avoided At All Costs list. It was right up there with going to Al's church. At least, Hohenheim had the decency to look surprised.

"Well, if you want to," Hohenheim left the sentence to dangle. He glanced at Ed and Ed gave him a glare strong enough to peel slightly damp paint.

"Really?" Al said, looking like an attention-starved puppy. Ed scowled in disgust. How could Al forgive That Bastard so easily? This wasn't like the Al Ed remembered. That Al never forgot anything, and he didn't forgive, he just gave second chances. A lot of second chances. However this was different from a second chance. Ed had been given a "second chance." Hohenheim was forgiven.

The conversation moved on. That Bastard, apparently, had some very nice property in the Puget Sound area. Ed knew nothing of that area save that it was in Washington (very far from San Diego) and it was cold and rainy (not Ed's first choice of climate). Ed knew nothing more about it and wanted to keep it that way. It sounded awful. And that was without the added presence of Al and Hohenheim and whatever tart That Bastard decided to drag in.

Hohenheim had alluded to that possibility. Al didn't realize this possibility. Of course, That Bastard hadn't said anything directly, but he didn't need to. It was all too clear from the awkward sentences in the conversation. He refused to meet Al's eyes when Al had asked about the neighborhood children. Then the detail in which he proceeded to describe only one "neighbor's" children was suspicious. One simply does not know one's neighbors like that. Ed guessed they belonged to that woman who'd caught Hohenheim's attention.

Needless to say, Ed wasn't exactly in the greatest of mood when the food came. He'd ordered a clam chowder, ignoring Al's sidelong glance. As long at the milk was in something else (like hot soup), he didn't mind it. You couldn't taste the stuff when it was cooked with what-ever-the-heck they put in clam chowder.

However, Ed couldn't do more than play with the soup. The thought of moving to some rainy hell, with Al, who just barely tolerated Ed, Hohenheim, who Ed just barely tolerated, and That Woman, who Ed would never tolerate, had taken away his appetite. Then there was the amount of alcohol That Bastard had consumed. Just driving to La Alta Costra had been nerve wracking. Hohenheim drove like a maniac. Ed had felt the bile rise in his throat several times and was not looking forward to repeating the experience.

"I wish Jeff were here," Ed thought, dipping his spoon into the cold soup.

The door opened and Ed reflexively glanced at it and nearly dropped his spoon. It was Jeff. Ed blinked. He could hardly believe his eyes. Amazingly enough, Jeff was really there. This was the last thing he'd expected to happen today.

One of the waitresses came over and started to flirt with Jeff. He turned away from her and glanced around the room, his eyes lighting on Ed. For a moment it looked like Jeff was going to come over. Ed shook his head, panicked. He couldn't have his boyfriend just drop in, Hohenheim didn't know he was gay and considering what Jeff was wearing (peircings, pants, and not much else) Al would freak. He'd never forgive Ed.

Jeff looked puzzled. Ed jerked his head towards his brother and That Bastard. Jeff still looked puzzled. He'd seen Al before, but not Hohenheim. Ed raised his eyebrows., trying to communicate without words. He knew better than to mouth words at Jeff. The redhead was terrible at lip reading and would end up making a scene. Still, Jeff wasn't exactly stupid and should be able to pick up on the general family resemblance.

Jeff shrugged and allowed himself to be seated. He ordered a drink, but no food. He waited just long enough so that it wouldn't look suspicious before getting up and heading to the bathroom. He sent Ed one significant look and Ed knew that if he didn't appear shortly, that Jeff would do something incredibly stupid, like introduce himself as Ed's boyfriend. Ed nodded and turned to his father and brother.

"I have to go the bathroom," Ed said shortly, interrupting a conversation about the Mariners. Al nodded and Hohenheim muttered something. Ed ignored him, got up and walked to the bathroom.

"Jeff what are you doing here?" Ed asked as soon as he entered the bathroom. He ignored the lingering smell of urine and stale air freshener. Jeff just smirked.

"I thought you might be here," Jeff said pinning Ed against the mauve tiled wall effortlessly. Ed stiffened. He still hadn't gotten used to people touching him. Jeff leaned in to kiss Ed but he panicked and placed a finger on Jeff's lips. Things were moving too fast; he couldn't take it.

"Not here," Ed hissed glancing at the door. "What if someone walks in?"

"No one's going to walk it," Jeff said, cocky smile on his face that was simultaneously infuriating and endearing.

"You don't know that," Ed replied hotly. "If Al walks in then—

"Never mind that, its just added spice," Jeff said flippantly.

"Easy for you to say, he's not your brother," Ed muttered but didn't pull away as Jeff trailed his fingers up Ed's sides. Ed held his breath, waiting for the inevitable arousal. Except, nothing happened. Ed felt nothing. Maybe he should stop taking Luvox, but going off of the medication was the equivalent of violating his parole. He couldn't do that.

"Looks like someone's been practicing their self control or it's the medication screwing you over. Please get that looked at."

"I will, I will, just—I—

Ed laid his head on Jeff's shoulder. He couldn't take it. Ed had practically lived in a constant state of arousal since he hit puberty and now he didn't feel anything. Ed didn't feel anything for Jeff or any guy. Even the idea of sex didn't warranted so much as a twitch. Throw Al instantly forgiving That Bastard and Hohenheim just being _there_ and Ed couldn't handle it. Everything's changing, out of what I— great," he thought, now an Avril Lavigne song could describe his life. This was a new low.

Still, Ed knew he wasn't going to stay here. Hohenheim didn't know Pinako. Ed's only hope was that Hohenheim found Ed's behavior so rotten that he'd send Ed somewhere else. Ed didn't care. But he couldn't just leave Jeff hanging like this; it wasn't fair nor was it right.

But breaking up doesn't fit with Equivalent Exchange, Ed thought. He'd first heard of that philosophy from an online comic (Iron and Alchemy). It decreed that for everything gained, something of equal value most be lost and vice-versa. Jeff had waited for Ed, so Ed should wait for Jeff. But that wouldn't work. Jeff had waited for five months knowing that Ed was going to come back. Ed couldn't wait for three years for someone who could never be with him. Sure there was college, but Ed had planned on going to UC San Diego, while Jeff had set his sights on the local community college. However now that Ed wouldn't have in state tuition that vision was an impossibility.

Breaking up with Jeff wasn't just the right thing to do, it was the only thing that benefited both parties. Surely that counted toward Equivalent Exchange.

"Thanks," Ed said, pulling himself together. He would debate the philosophical side of his decision later, possibly in Washington.

"Anytime," Jeff said, and he meant it. He loved Ed's cuddling moods almost as much as he enjoyed watching him jack off. Ed was never sure which Jeff preferred and didn't want to ask. It was too embarrassing.

"I want you to know you've been great, and I couldn't ask for a better first boyfriend, but—

"No buts," Jeff said, avoiding comprehension. Ed smiled sadly. Jeff could be as dense as molasses on a cold day. Ideas just refused to enter his mind and stick. Jeff had used this particular talent to piss off most of the subs they'd had and even some of the regular teachers. The only way to get through to Jeff when he was like this was to ignore it. Something Ed had a great deal of practice at.

"Yes, I'm going to be moving." Ed stated.

"How far? Maybe we can still see each other on weekends—

"How far is it from here to Washington?" Ed asked, he was almost sure that he wasn't going to be living in Washington, but Jeff didn't need to know that. It'd give him too much hope. If it was going to be a clean break, there couldn't be hope. Jeff's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"Exactly," Ed said, bracing himself for complaints.

"Can we—

"What? Write? You take months to answer the shortest letters. Talking on the phone is out of the question because of the phone bill," Ed said, taking away each of Jeff's options one by one.

"What about email or IM?" Jeff pleaded.

"I don't even know if they have that in Washington," Ed muttered.

"It's not the end of the world—

"It's five short miles away from Canada. You do realize they still ride around on horseback there," Ed said.

"But doesn't your dad work, he'll have to Internet access," Jeff said, visibly grasping at straws.

"He's an artist," Ed said. "And even if they get Internet up there, what makes you think I'll be allowed to use it? And even if I could, you'd be in an online relationship and I know what you think of those."

"But this is different," Jeff complained.

"How so?" Ed said raising an eyebrow.

"It just is," Jeff said before muttering, "Fine, I guess you're right."

It broke Ed's heart to put Jeff through this. But Ed had to do it. If he didn't, Jeff would never be able to move on. He'd cherish the hope and if Ed allowed Jeff to hold on, he would never be able to break up with Jeff. And if he found someone Ed couldn't be with them, because of Jeff. So the clean break was for the best.

Ed smiled before saying:

"I am right, Jeff."

"He's been gone for a while," Al said, glancing worriedly at the bathrooms. Ed was wretched at being discreet. Ed probably though he was being sneaky by waiting a few minutes before going to the bathroom. It didn't take a genius, let alone someone who'd lived with Ed for thirteen years, to read the none too subtle looks Ed had sent that guy. Al didn't miss the fact that the redhead's eyes had never left Ed's, save for when he finally left for the men's room. Add that to the fact that Ed was gay, always came here, had a long time boyfriend, and Al had a match. If that guy wasn't Ed's boyfriend, he'd be surprised.

"He's probably fine," Hohenheim said, but shifted in his seat nonetheless. Al sent him a worried look. No one, not even Pinako was immune to that look.

"But it wouldn't hurt to check," Hohenheim admitted. Al smiled, once again he'd gotten his way.

Hohenheim smiled in return and got up. Al was such a happy, agreeable child. He already knew that he'd get along just fine with Sue's three children. Ed on the other hand, was going to be nothing but trouble. Hohenheim had been wary about even going to see Ed; it was Sue who'd talked him into the trip.

Well, it was more of a guilt trip, since she used the phrase 'how long as it been?' and 'he's probably just lacking a father figure in his life'. The last one had hurt. But the thing that had really made up Hohenheim's mind was the mention of Al, or as Sue put it 'the other boy.' Al didn't deserve to be neglected just because Ed was being difficult.

Though that led to the question, what was he going to do with Ed. He couldn't just leave the boy here. Sue was a psychiatrist and often stated that kids caused the most trouble between the hours of three and six. That was how she convinced him to stop painting in the afternoons and look after the kids. Ed's arson just proved her point. Sue would agree about moving Ed. Only problem, she'd want to move him to Washington so she could work with him.

That wouldn't work. Hohenheim knew that if Ed held him responsible for Trisha's death, he'd never accept Sue's help. Especially because Sue could be stubborn and prying at times. And while that might've worked on her patients, it would never work with Ed.

Hohenheim sighed at placed his hand on the door, ready to open it.

"I am right Jeff." That was Ed's voice. Hohenheim froze. He didn't want to eavesdrop, but this was the only way he'd learn anything.

"Are you sure? We could make it work, people have—

"They weren't fifteen. Besides you can't just wait around for me." Jeff was a boy's name, Hohenheim thought stupidly, his mind refusing to work.

"Yes I can." The other distinctly male voice protested. He's gay, Hohenheim thought. Well, that was one thing I didn't see coming.

"Don't."

"But some long distance relation—

"Jeff, listen. I don't want to tie you down. I'm not going to be back for years, maybe never. You'll find someone new and—

"They won't be nearly half as perfect as you." Jeff protested. Hohenheim had to give Ed credit. He sure knew how to pick a … a significant other that adored him and would stand by him.

"Jeff, be reasonable." And Ed certainly had no second thoughts. That or he was hiding them.

"Fine, send me postcards love. And if you meet someone, tell them if-if they hurt you, they'll have to deal with me." Hohenheim backed away from the door and walked back, grateful for the fact that Al could see the door from their booth. He couldn't believe it. As if it wasn't enough that Ed was a pyro. Still, he'd been an artist and lived in San Francisco long enough to realize that prejudice wasn't good for business. Besides, there'd been the fact that Hohenheim knew gay couples who were incredibly devoted to each other. They would never even think of walking out. Not like he'd done.

Hohenheim walked back to the table. He wasn't going to get much sleep tonight. Not with all the ideas he'd had shattered today.

"So?" Al asked when Hohenheim returned.

"He's coming," Hohenheim said, wincing at the innuendo. He hoped it wasn't true or soon to become true.

"So what's the ocean like in Washington?" Al asked, moving the conversation back onto comfortable ground. Hohenheim paused a moment, exactly how much did Al know or guess?

"Hey, Dad," Ed said grimacing at the unfamiliar word. Al's eye's widen in shock. Ed had just called Hohenheim Dad, as opposed to That Man or That Bastard or even Hohenheim.

"Yes," Hohenheim replied, feeling as if he'd been hit in the head by a two by four.

"This is my friend Jeff, we haven't seen each other in a while and I was wondering if I could ride home with him?" Ed asked, smiling like Al had. However, Ed smile was more of a show of teeth than a smile, and the effect was terrifying rather than convincing. However, Hohenheim didn't want to cause a scene. It would give him time to talk to Al alone. And avoid negative contact with Ed, a voice in Hohenheim's head whispered. He ignored it; it sounded too much like Sue.

Liar, the only reason you're caving is because this is the first time in six years he'd called you Dad. Hohenheim ignored that all too truthful thought.

"Ah, sure," Hohenheim said, still in partial shock. Maybe Ed would come around. Something told him that was asking too much. The only reason Ed was being civil was so his boyfriend wouldn't be curious and so Hohenheim would relent. Classic ploy, but it was working.

Hohenheim looked at Jeff. He was taller than Ed, but that was to be expected, as Ed was just barely as taller than the average sixth grader. Jeff was no where near Hohenheim's height of 6'7, but definitely had the look of someone who would get there. He was tanned, well-muscled, with curly red hair, and if he wasn't clearly under the age of eighteen, Hohenheim might've asked him to model for him. Ed sure knew how to pick guys.

"Bye Dad," Ed managed to say through gritted teeth. Jeff waved good bye.

"I can't believe he actually said yes," Ed whispered excitedly. Jeff sighed. He couldn't figure out why Ed couldn't stand his dad. Of course, his mom had died last year and Ed seemed to hold it against him. But that wasn't his dad's fault.

"I mean, I thought he'd want me to stay with him, family time, I guess," Ed said with a shrug. Jeff felt like crying. How could Ed continue like nothing had changed? He'd just turned Jeff's whole world upside-down and now he was complaining about his only parent. Jeff couldn't believe it. He just couldn't. Did he really mean so little to Ed? Or was it the Luvox, that Jeff was beginning to hate.

"And I can't believe—

"Shhhh," Jeff pulling Ed into an unlit corner.

"Jeff, what are you doing?" Ed said, his voice wavering.

"Don't ask, just listen," Jeff said, looking down at Ed. Ed was gorgeous. The faint blue lights from the street lamp lent a silver glow to Ed's golden features. Jeff unconsciously ran his finger up Ed's sides. Ed shivered as Jeff's finger danced lightly up his arms. This time with purpose, Jeff ran his fingers along Ed's jaw line. Damned if he was going to let Ed leave without giving him a proper goodbye.

Ed gave one of his peculiar keens when Jeff's fingers massaged his throat. Jeff smiled. Ed, when he was hot and bothered, was the sexiest thing on earth. Jeff continued, he loved the feeling of Ed's throat beneath his hands. He leaned down, hoping to do more than touch when Ed hissed:

"Do you hear that?" Jeff shook his head, but listened nonetheless. Voices, not far off, sounded.

"So I can really live with you?"

"Sure."

It was Hohenheim and Al. El stiffened beneath Jeff's hands. Jeff frowned; he still couldn't understand why Ed got so upset whenever Jeff brought up his parents. Of course, Jeff didn't have much experience with parents; he lived with his grandmother.

"Ed—

"Shhh, I'm trying to listen," Ed hissed back, entwining his hands with Jeff's in silent apology. Jeff huffed but held on. This was the first time Ed had initiated any form of physical contact since he'd gotten out of juvie.

"I think they're gone," Jeff ventured, glancing back at Ed. Ed still looked panicked, and Jeff knew that he wouldn't calm down until he was at Pinako's or Jeff's house.

"Yeah me too," Ed muttered still looking rattled.

Headlights turned on and an engine started somewhere in the parking lot. Jeff ignored it and focused on Ed. He was determined to memorize Ed's face completely by the time the night was through.

"So where were we?" Ed all but purred, pressing himself against Jeff. Jeff felt something hard poke him in the thigh. Unless Ed had started carrying a rolls of quarters around in his pocket, he was turned on. Jeff smirked triumphantly. He'd brought the old Ed back.

"So—

Ed silenced himself and pressed harder against Jeff. Jeff glanced over at the parking lot, bright head lights were coming their way.

"Jeff, you're going to pick me up and walk backwards before my brother and dad see us like this," Ed said in a clipped voice, a hint of fear creeping into his voice. Jeff had no problem obeying that command. He easily lifted Ed up to about eye level.

"Wrap your legs around me," Jeff whispered, contemplating squeezing Ed's ass. Sure Ed would freak, but it was his ass. To squeeze, or not to squeeze. Jeff squeezed.

"Did you just squeeze my ass?" Ed asked, his voice strangely high-pitched. The headlights had drawn closer.

"Yes," Jeff said, low and sultry, before squeezing Ed's ass again. Ed's eyes dilated, and he jerked in Jeff's grip before regaining control far too quickly for Jeff's liking.

"Stop that, well at least wait. Now back up before they see us," Ed hissed. The headlights were almost on them. Jeff stepped back and fell over a crate.

"Fuck!" he yelped before Ed slammed his face on his mouth. Jeff sworn again. Only this time it was purely mental because Ed was biting his tongue. The engine stopped.

"Who's there?" Ed's dad said, stepping out of the car with his flashlight. Jeff looked at Ed. Ed was practically shaking from fear, his eyes were mere pinpricks in his almost glowing yellow eyes. Ed's dad stepped closer. If he moved that blasted flashlight just a few more inches to the right, he'd see them.

"I think I see something—


	4. Rose Garden

Wow. The long-awaited chapter four. It's finally here. In all its glory. It's only 2 years, seven months, two weeks, and five days late. I really can't believe how this whole thing all came about. Or that I remember everything perfectly (okay, the notes I kept help). I've definitely come a long way as a writer since publishing this.

The characterization of Sloth as someone similar to me started with this. My general disregard for cannon started here. Of course, this was also written with the intention that someone unfamiliar to the fandom could read and understand this. So, it's possible that my attention to characterization started here as well.

But Shinderera is the one who deserves the most thanks. She's the one who offered to adopt the story (only to discover that I'd written more on it, but due to partner issues, was unable to publish that work). We then decided that she could take over writing the parts that Insanity was originally supposed to write.

Reviews will work out this way: you review. I write my response. I IM Shinderera with the review. She IMs me her response. I paste her response and include it in my review response.

Credit where credit is due. It's highly unlikely this would've ever happened had she not intervened. Go, worship her.

Now, without further ado, I present to you the long awaited, heavily anticipated, illustrious, fourth chapter of:

Playing With FireBecause if you play with fire, you're going to get burned

Chapter Four: (I Never Promised You A) Rose Garden

But there's one thing I want you to know

You'd better look before you leap still waters run deep

And there won't always be someone there to pull you out

And you know what I'm talking about

—Martina McBride, (I Never Promised You A) Rose Garden

Envy liked being outside. It simply wasn't his nature to be cooped up. Hell, he didn't even like to wear shoes. They were too constricting. He didn't like any type of constricting clothing. Constricting shouldn't be confused with tight. He liked tight clothes actually. They didn't get in his way, and what could he say, he knew what flattered him. He knew he had a nice body and enjoyed showing it off.

Hence his outfit: tight tank tops, along with tight short shorts, that were often covered with a skirt. It was perfectly fine, according to Envy, for a man to wear a skirt, provided that everyone understood it was a _skort_, not a skirt. There was a difference. Just ask Bernie.

Bernie was the latest guy who'd thought that there was no difference between a skort and a skirt, and if there was, that the difference was negligible. Envy had wasted no time educating Bernie. He'd made in _painfully_ clear that, yes there was a difference, and yes, Envy cared about that difference, and that Bernie should care about that difference too. Especially if Bernie liked his nose shaped the way it was. Bernie quickly admitted to his errors. Why? Because Envy was persuasive like that.

In any case, Envy needed to be out and about, running around or just causing mayhem. Which was his favorite hobby. A hobby he wasn't indulging in at the moment.

Instead, Envy was happy just to be out. Giggling in a more than just slightly feminine manner, Envy proceeded to run. His arms flaying around and his peculiar hair blowing with the breeze.

He gave a little jump and fell into a series of dizzying cartwheels, one right after the other. It was exhilarating. He kept landing on his hair and pulling it. Perhaps a braid would've been best. Envy ignored the slight pain and fluidly shifted into the next cartwheel. The quick rapid movement made it easy to forget the discomfort.

Doing cartwheels repeatedly caused one to forget to pay attention to where they were going. Or rather, they caused Envy to forget, or just plain not care. However he cared very much when he launched himself hands, then head first into a thorny rose bush.

"GAAAAH! Oh, ow, Oh—FUCK!"

Envy land on the back of his neck. His arms gave out as thorns cut into his skin. His legs caught on the higher, but equally thorny branches. His hair caught on several thorns, yanking the strands painfully. He was completely stuck. No matter which way he tried to move, he only succeeded in getting more caught and cut up. Not. Cool.

Giggles. That meant girls. And the only girls around were Envy's two cousins, Sloth and Insanity. That wasn't good. That was never good. Especially not when he was helpless, ensnared in the neighbor's stupid rose bush.

This was not funny dammit! It wasn't! He tried twisting around so he wasn't on his neck. He got more cuts, but this position was better for seeing his two cousins who had gathered around the bush and were cackling gleefully at his pitiful predicament.

"Oh God, Envy," the taller one said.

"Don't just stand there! Do something!" Envy yelped, glaring at his giggling cousins through the thorns. Never mind that he could beat Insanity at mercy and Sloth at arm wrestling. They were just crazed enough not to feel threatened by Envy, particularly when he was stuck in a rose bush. Sloth and Insanity snickered.

"Should we call Tomas?"

"Tomas el jardenero?"

"See esta queroes," Sloth said, her Spanish accent was awful.

"Don't sing that song! Get Lust!"

"Do you remember where the hedge trimmer thingy is?"

"Shut up!" he snarled, glaring at the girls. "You might want to try helping me!"

"Now Envy," Insanity said, "Is that anyway to get what you want?"

He grounded his teeth in answer. He was in pain and hated it. Surely, he should not be expected to be a decent person while he was suffering. Sloth certainly wasn't when she had menstrual cramps.

It wasn't that Envy had a low tolerance of pain. Quite the contrary, like most of his family he was capable of ignoring high levels of pain. He just didn't want to. Why should he have to feel it dammit? It was _painful_.

Envy had no problems with causing others pain. They tended to deserve it. But he didn't. He'd just been innocently cart wheeling along and BAM! he'd landed in a rosebush. And the thorns were painful, biting into his skin and pulling on his hair. He struggled fiercely in an attempt to escape from the rose bush. He only managed to further ensnare himself.

"Do you know where the hedge trimmers are?" Sloth asked Insanity, between burst of giggles. Envy growled. Why couldn't they just get on with it and get him out of here?!

"Go get Lust!" Good, Envy thought. She would actually know what to do and could help him. Sloth waved her hand in a shushing manner. Envy sputtered angrily, he would not be shushed!

"Just relax, I'll get you out as soon as I figure out where those trimmers are." Sloth tapped her chin and looked around the yard as if they would magically appear. Envy growled again. Was she fucking with him?! This wasn't funny. Even though he didn't look like it from a distance (or up close), Envy was male. That meant he had certain rights. He shouldn't have to put up with this giggling. Sloth and Insanity should be _helping_ him, not mocking him. He could take either of them in a fair fight!

Only thing was, neither Insanity nor Sloth understood the meaning of a fair fight. While they knew how to throw punches without risking broken thumbs, they also had no qualms about pulling hair or scratching. Of course, come to think of, neither did Envy.

However, there was one huge advantage they had over him. Envy was a guy and had guy parts. Very sensitive guy parts. And Sloth and Insanity exploited this anatomical fact mercilessly. It wasn't fair. But Sloth and Insanity weren't particularly interested in fair. They were interested in winning. Neither was cowed by Envy, especially when he was held upside down in the thorny embrace of a rose bush.

Therefore, they had no problems laughing at him and, if the faint chirruping sound was what Envy thought it was, taking digital pictures of him. He glared at them as best he could from his position. His glare must be piercing, he'd practiced it for hours in the mirror. They should be quaking in their boots.

"No, Sloth, that'd be cruel." Insanity protested as Sloth picked up a stick that she spotted on the ground.

"But the stick," Sloth complained, sticking her bottom lip out. She swiped her messy brown hair away from her face.

"Don't poke him," Insanity said, identical brown hair swirling in the breeze. They could be twins, aside from the height difference. But they weren't. Insanity, despite being taller, was almost year younger than Sloth. Yet they'd both somehow managed to end up in the same grade.

"But," Sloth protested.

"No," Insanity said. "Put the stick down."

Sloth was tempted to get a stick and start poking him, but she opted for actually trying to get him out. Sanity was not a common family trait, self-preservation was.

She disappeared for a moment along with Insanity. Envy was growing impatient and just wanted to scream. After what seemed to Envy way too long, Sloth reappeared with the trimmers, looking at them skeptically. She looked at him, then back at the trimmers.

"Hmm." Her brow furrowed as she thought about how she was to go about cutting him loose. He glared. Sloth, irony of ironies, was supposed to be the more proactive of the two. Envy had expected her to take charge of the situation and free him quickly. Insanity had the hesitant, shaky hands that Envy wouldn't trust anywhere near his body, especially if said shaking hands held something like a scalpel or hedge trimmers.

"Get on with it already!" A thorn sliced through the soft skin of his cheek as he shouted at Sloth. She shrugged and tentatively stuck the blades of the trimmers into the bush and snipped a small branch. Envy sighed in annoyance. That hadn't done nothing goddammit, he thought angrily.

"Just cut the damn thing!" He wanted out! Now. Right now.

"Ok... right…" He didn't like the unsure sound of her voice when she had sharp hedge trimmers in her hands. A few more snips and Envy felt the branches loosening. He could cry from happiness right now.

"It almost a shame... roses are so pretty and this was a such a nice bush…" That was Insanity. Envy resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. 'Sanity was _such_ a typical Pisces sometimes.

"Like I care!" Envy rolled out of the damaged and chopped up bush, a few small branches and broken thorns clinging to his clothes and hair. One or two thorns stuck in his skin. His was free! He jumped up and danced around, the previous feeling of exhilaration back.

He yanked the branches off of his skort, which was the primary area of his body besides his hair that the thorns clung to. He'd have to go through his hair with a brush but—Envy felt the ends of it. His previous knee-length hair was gone.

"Sloth," he said her name slow and low. She was in for it.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" She complained, raising her arms. She still held the hedge trimmers, Envy noted. Dangerous. Envy glanced at the ruined rose bush. Pieces of his hair littered the wreckage.

He ran a hand through his hair again, this time to inspect the damage. His hair had been glorious, long, thick, and luxuriant. It was long for a guy (or even a girl) but he liked it. He especially liked it without leaves and other bits of nature caught in it. He ran his hand through it, trying to pick out said pieces of nature.

There was no denying that it was shorter, waist length in some places. The cut was uneven and it probably looked like he'd taken hedge trimmers to it…possibly because that's how it had been mangled.

Sloth was going to pay.

"Are you ok? You're bleeding." Sloth informed matter of factly. Envy kicked her in the shin. Somehow, this was just all her fault.

With a girlish yelp, Sloth brought her leg up and rubbed the tender area with her hands.

"What was that for?!" She cried indignantly. She had just helped him out of a rather thorny situation and even was so kind as to express concern for his well being and all he can do to repay her was kick her. What an ass.

"Envy, that wasn't very nice.," Insanity stated. Envy glared at her. She normally stayed out of argument between him and Sloth. "You should apologize to Sloth. She did get you out of there didn't she?"

Still, there were sometimes he just hated Insanity's placidity and her refusal to further rouse the ruffled feathers of either party. Couldn't she just take sides? Namely with him. He was the injured party here!

"You shut up! All you did was stand there gawking!" Envy accused. Insanity glared at him mildly. He was certainly being testy. He was out of the damn bush wasn't he? What was his problem?

Before she could comment on his uncouth and ungrateful attitude, Sloth kicked Envy's shin. Given that she was wearing casual looking dress shoes with a pointed toe, her kick most definitely hurt considerably more than Envy's bare footed one.

"Ow! You bitch!" Envy collapsed onto the grassy ground clutching his abused shin. He _hated_ pain, Insanity suspected that this was the root of his agitation. His utter hatred of pain coupled with his rather effeminate vanity caused the scratched up and overall shabby looking boy to become pissy. And in his pissy mood, he lashed out at the people nearest, despite the fact that one of those people has played hero to his distressing damsel.

Generally he was smarter than to instigate a heavy argument with his cousins, since even though they were female, they still outnumbered him. Not that they were exactly pushovers. The simple fact of the matter was that he was being hotheaded and Insanity was not in the mood for his immaturity.

And Sloth, who was standing over Envy looking smug, was only serving to further worsen the situation.

"Now Envy, let's act our age," Sloth said condescendingly. Fuck! He was older than her dammit! Envy huffed and grabbed her ankle. With a firm tug, Sloth was flat on her back. Sloth bent her leg, then with a venomous glare, kicked Envy. He fell back, holding his chin, a thin line of blood dripping from a small puncture in his lip. He'd bitten his lip. Sloth sat up ready to gloat, until she saw the red line on his chin. She couldn't help but feel guilty. She hadn't meant to actually hurt him, only take him down a peg or two.

"Envy, I'm sorr—"

Insanity watched as Envy tackle d Sloth to the ground, cutting off her apology. She sighed and walked up to the house to get Lust. Insanity didn't want to deal with the two anymore.

She let out an irritated sigh as she crossed the threshold. She suspected that Lust would be in the kitchen reading a magazine, as usual. Insanity entered the kitchen and found that she was right. Lust sat in one of the table chairs, legs crossed, a Vogue magazine opened in her hands.

Lust looked up and set the magazine down when she heard someone come in. Insanity looked disheveled and a little distressed, a line of concern formed on Lust's forehead.

"Envy and Sloth are wrestling around by the rose bushes."

Lust didn't need anymore details. She sighed and got up, flipping her magazine over to save her page, she followed Insanity outside.

Lust stood on the small stone porch outside her door. She could easily see what Insanity was referring too. Sloth and Envy were indeed wrestling. She raised a well groomed eyebrow as she saw the two cousins rolling around on the ground in a most childish fashion.

She suspected, judging from Insanity's distressed appearance, that the fight had had a serious start, but the laughter emanating from the two bodies dared to suggest otherwise now. What actually concerned Lust was the state of one of the neighbor's rose bushes. Of one could even call it a "bush" anymore. She pursed her lips in displeasure. Insanity w as looking at her expectantly.

"Oh leave them. They seem to be having fun." She waved her hand as if waving off the severity of the situation. Insanity looked mildly surprised. Before Sloth and Envy had looked ready to kill each other. She shrugged. All's well that ends well. She followed Lust back inside.

Lust and Insanity sat at the kitchen table. Lust resumed reading her magazine, Insanity hastily began cleaning under her nails. It was quiet.

Sloth and Envy tumbled into the ground, making a ruckus. Laughing and tripping over each other. It wasn't so quiet anymore. Lust and Insanity gave each other a small smile before Envy and Sloth made their way into the kitchen, their laughter fading, but still grinning at each other.

"How nice of you two to come inside all dirty and muddy. Also, so kind of you, to demolish Tomas's rosebush, you know how he adores them. Really. Whatever did it do to you?" Lust inquired.

"Eh... you see... I got stuck... and then—"

"Envy, I don't care. You and Sloth can do the dishes. And I think it goes without saying, but I'll say it anyway, that you'll be cleaning whatever dirt you managed to drag into the house." Lust never once looked up from her magazine. Insanity held back her laughter as she watched the jubilant expressions on Sloth and Envy's face melt away. Protests immediately sprung forth in unintelligible sentences. Lust didn't care to hear it.

"I'm not saying it again." She left the impending threat hang in the air. Sloth sighed and went upstairs to change out of her dirtied clothes, Envy grumbled and followed her up.

Insanity and Lust smiled as Sloth and Envy's giggles floated down from the upper story. All was well in the house of the sins.

**~fin**

Reviews? Ready for the next chapter?


	5. Bitter End

I feel like I owe you guys one. Hence update.

Hohenheim's views on people taking medication for depression are not mine. No offense to anyone taking Luvox. I myself take medication for ADHD. My favorite thing to say to people who attempt to mock me about is: "At least they have a medication for my disorder. You on the other hand…" [Since Bejing in '08, it's changed to "Hell yeah, I have ADHD, like Michael Phelps!" There's no comeback to that. ]

This chapter is called The Schizophrenic Chapter (Czechers for short… sorry inside joke.) I promise there won't be one like this again, I'll either make it longer or have links to my deviant art (Portions~For~Foxes) with illustrations of things that happened in said chapter. I have one picture and a good reason for me to hate Ed's hair. I had to go and draw from a picture. And seriously reference it and even then. I haven't had to do something like that in years. .

(And you know what, I don't own FMA, Starbucks, iPods, The Gap, or Product(red). I do own an INSPI(RED) t-shirt though, and it is awesome. Incidentally, San Francisco is not mine either.)

Playing With Fire

_Because if you play with fire, you're going to get burned_

Chapter Five: Bitter End

Farewell to old friends

Let's raise a glass to the bitter end

Farewell to old friends

Will you forgive me when I see you again?

-Dixie Chicks, Bitter End

Izumi Curtis was a fairly successful woman. During her career as a traveling nurse, and later as a renowned surgeon, she'd proved she was capable of the impossible. After winning many medical awards and getting the general recognition of the medical world, she'd worked at St. Jude's hospital. For free. That was where she met her husband, Sig, a farmer who was caring for his sick brother. It had been a strange love, but it was love.

Izumi had made enough money in her career as a surgeon to retire comfortably anywhere (save Beverly Hills) and she'd had no problems relocating to Chico, California. They'd gotten married there in the spring, with all the almond trees blooming. It had been one of best days of Izumi's life and she still treasured the memory.

However, there were still things in her life she did not like to remember or be reminded. First on her list was her cooking skills, or lack thereof. Second was that she couldn't bear children. The second one had ceased being a problem when Sig had started bringing strays home. It had started with stray kittens, and then came the puppies. At first, Izumi had seen it as annoying_**—**_sweet, but annoying. She'd made the mistake of not nipping it in the bud. Then Sig decided it would be a good idea to start up a foster home. Izumi had been dead set against it. Her retirement plans had not included thousands (well maybe not _thousands_) of children passing through her house. Sig had eventually worn her down_**,**_ and now they were even in the process of adopting Wrath, an odd boy that bore more than a passing resemblance to Izumi.

The third thing that Izumi did not like to be reminded of was that she had gone to her senior (and junior) prom with Hohenheim. The first time wasn't so bad, mostly because Izumi's older and scarier brother was there and had threatened Hohenheim pale before leaving with _his_ girlfriend. The second time was more…memorable. Izumi had spent years after the wretched date thanking Buddha or Whatever that she had made her own dress.

It (the dress) had been genius incarnate: revealing enough to get (and keep) Hohenheim's attention, modest enough to prevent her mother from having a heart attack. Simple enough to fight in, yet too complex for a half-drunk Hohenheim to remove.

Aside from the minor triumph of the dress, the dance had been terrible, or_**,**_ as Izumi had recorded in her journal_**,**_ 'sucked some major ass.'

And now the very same person who had been the reason the dance had sucked was on the other line. And he was begging and pleading. And if Izumi hadn't been so irritated with him, she'd have found this immensely gratifying as well as amusing.

"So you want me to take your brats in?" Izumi growled. An audible gulp came from the other line. Izumi smirked. She tended to have that effect on adults, but for some reason small children refused to be intimidated by her.

"Well, it's not like that Izumi—"

"That's _Mrs._ Curtis to you."

"Mrs. Curtis—Izumi, I can't call you that. I'm aware that you're married. And I'm engaged," Hohenheim protested with a note of panic in his voice. Izumi smiled. Terrifying Hohenheim was always fun, no matter what the situation involved. "Besides, it's not both of them, just Ed."

"Wasn't he your favorite? I mean, you used to do everything with him," Izumi taunted. Sure it wasn't exactly fair to remind Hohenheim of the family he'd lost when he left Trisha, but that was his own stupid fault. It said so in the wedding vows 'in sickness and in health'. Hohenheim couldn't handle the former. Mainly because _he's_ the one who needs a babysitter, Izumi thought. She'd always thought that leaving Trisha was the worst thing Hohenheim had ever done. Right up there with Sue.

"He, he's changed, Izumi. He live_**s**_ in San Diego, and he h-ha-has—"

"AIDS?" Izumi innocently inquired.

"NO!" Hohenheim shrieked.

"So then what's the problem, it's only a move to San Francisco—"

"Pungent Sound, actually," Hohenheim said_**,**_ subdued.

"Hahaha! That's funny, for a while there I though you'd moved to Washington—"

"I did."

"I can see how that would be a problem for Ed. You, well, you're an _artist__**.**_ You thrive on emotional turmoil and interrupted work," Izumi said_**,**_ beginning to enjoy the conversation. Hohenheim probably just wanted someone to moan to. He couldn't be serious.

"He's a pyromaniac, just got of juvenile hall, accused me of killing Tri-Tri—"

"Sa_**y**_ it, big man," Izumi said. She had a low (near zero) tolerance for drama, whereas Hohenheim had a distinct flair for it. It supposedly came out of being an artist. Though, Izumi privately believed that prolonged San Francisco residency had been more than partially responsible.

"Trisha_**—**_and I'm so glad you decided to be a surgeon instead of a family counselor. And Al's not particularly comfortable around him."

"Now that I refuse to believe. They never fought, even after you left," Izumi said_**,**_ twirling the cord around her finger.

"Oh, well_**,**_ there's this little detail. It's the fact that Al's Catholic_**,**_ and Ed's gay with a boyfriend."

Izumi nearly choked. It was her turn to shriek.

"WHAT?!" she yelped into the phone. She had to have heard that wrong. Ed just didn't seem like the type. Granted, last time she'd seen Ed he'd been four_**,**_ going on five.

"That's another reason why he can't live with me. Sue is convinced that homosexuality is just a mental disorder and she's trying to 'cure' him," Hohenheim said.

Izumi grimaced. She hated Sue. Of all the women Hohenheim could have picked it was Sue. Sue did nothing but encourage Hohenheim's sulky whining nature. "Break up with her," she said. In her opinion, Sue shouldn't be allowed to practice psychology, not if she insisted on using out of date definitions and procedures. Unfortunately, no one else thought so.

"Yeah, but that eliminates only one problem, leaving us with Ed hating me, Al disliking Ed, and it all being generally awkward because I can't legally get them drunk," Hohenheim moaned.

"Aw, poor Hohenheim, you_**r**_ only form of diplomacy is useless," Izumi cooed wickedly.

"Shut up, Izumi."

"Is that anyway to talk to the guardian of your oldest son?" Izumi asked.

"I—thank you," Hohenheim sighed in relief.

"Don't thank me_**,**_ I'm not doing this for you. Anything to keep an innocent out of Sue's evil grasp," Izumi said_**,**_ hanging up the phone with a decided click before Hohenheim could protest the description of his beloved.

"Izumi-mommy, what are you going to change your mind about?" Wrath said_**,**_ appearing behind Izumi so suddenly that she yelped. Not even years of martial arts training had prepared her for super-silent children who appeared out of nowhere.

"Don't sneak up on me like that," she gasped, then_**,**_ reading the look of utter fear on Wrath's face_**,**_ added "Nothing to do you with you, so don't worry. Unless you don't want an older bother, in which case you should be worrying."

"Huh?" Wrath said. Izumi wasn't canceling his adoption_**,**_ but he was getting an older brother. That didn't make sense.

"It's a favor for an old _friend__**;**_ he can't seem to deal with his own children. Well, he's never been able to successfully deal with own his life, so it's to be expected," Izumi muttered. She'd never understood how Hohenheim could be so weak. If the girls in high school had known that Hohenheim was secretly terrified of them and cried on Izumi's shoulder when his crush turned out to be a lesbian, they probably wouldn't have liked him as much.

"What's the kid's name?" Wrath asked, bringing Izumi out of her high school memories.

"Ed," Izumi said. It was ironic. She'd used to be the victim of listening to Hohenheim's rants about not understanding Al. Oh how the tables had turned.

"Like the talking horse," Wrath said, with a completely innocent smile on his face. Izumi smirked. Ed wasn't going to know how to deal with Wrath. Wrath, unlike Al, was the typical younger sibling: annoying, irritating, and slightly manipulative.

"Yes, only don't tell him that_**.**_ I don't think he'll appreciate the comparison," Izumi said with a fond smile. Wrath was as horse crazy as any seven_**-**_year_**-**_old girl. He even had a collection of My Little Ponies. That was something that Izumi found rather disturbing, but it was better than her older brother's Barbie doll collection. Mainly because her brother had stolen those dolls from her. Not that Izumi missed them much_**;**_ they couldn't be operated on.

"So when's he coming?" Wrath asked, looking up at Izumi.

"Err, I don't know yet. Sometime soon, I guess," Izumi said. Perhaps hanging up on Hohenheim was not the best of plans. Well, Hohenheim was sure to call again. There was no way he had driven all the way down to 'the end of America' as he called it. He probably flew down there and was going to fly up. And Izumi knew that Hohenheim couldn't book a flight to save his life (or his art, she'd discovered at the New York art show). Sue, that dratted evangelical Freudian psychologist, had probably arranged Hohenheim's flights.

Well, at least that nutcase was good for something. That and Hohenheim preferred to cry on her shoulder. Izumi had been overjoyed when Hohenheim had told her this. She didn't like having soggy shoulders. Granted his exact words had been 'at least she gives me sympathy.' But that meant that Izumi didn't have to deal with a grown man sobbing on her shoulder every time he failed at life (roughly about every five years). Still, even once was one too many times.

However, not even the thought of Hohenheim never sobbing on Izumi's shoulder was enough to make her like Sue. Especially since Sue had tried to convert her several times. That woman refused to understand that her religion wasn't the only true one. It was going to be hell at the wedding. Assuming Izumi was going to attend. Sending one of those nice engraved wedding invitations back with 'Fuck you' written on it would be priceless. Horribly immature, but priceless.

Still, worrying about how she could best ruin Sue's life—er**,** wedding_**,**_ was not going to help Ed get here.

It'd be easiest by train, Izumi thought and smirked. The best thing to do would be to find a train that left San Diego at an ungodly hour. Ed should be able to sleep on the way up, but Hohenheim wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. In fact, that lone incident would mess up his delicate sleep patterns for weeks_**,**_ possibly months. Izumi cackled to herself. She was going to make Hohenheim pay for taking Ed in.

The fact that inviting Ed into her house was like inviting trouble failed to cross her mind. She already had hoards of children around_**. **_What difference could one more troubled teen make?

..............

"You're WHAT?!" Ed yelled_**,**_ gaping at his father. He knew he wasn't going to stay in San Diego. But Chico?

"I'm sending you to live with my_**,**_ err_**, **_friend Mrs. Curtis," Hohenheim said, flinching as he spoke her name. If Ed wasn't moving to the middle of friggin' nowhere, he'd have wanted to meet this woman who terrified Hohenheim. Anyone who had that effect on That Man had to be decent. However that was not the case.

"Why?" Ed cried, making Al shift uncomfortably. There was nothing like a distraught Ed to ruin an appetite.

"Because I know and trust her—"

"Why aren't I going to live with you?" Ed demanded_**,**_ banging his fist on the table and earning a glare from Pinako.

"You want to?" Hohenheim asked_**,**_ raising an eyebrow.

Ed shut his mouth. Chico, even though it was no place, was better than Washington with Al and Him.

"Anyway_**,**_ your train leaves at 4:00, so you should probably start packing," Hohenheim said, as he took a bite of the fish. "Excellent fish_**,**_ Pinako."

"4:00 in the afternoon," Ed said.

"Nope, the morning," Hohenheim said cheerfully. "So Winry, you say you're an artist?"

"THE MORNING?!" Ed yelled.

"Ed." Pinako only needed to say one word. Ed got the point ("Shut up before I hurt you") and was silent.

"Why the morning?" Ed asked again_**,**_ lowering his voice.

"Izum_**—**_Mrs. Curtis bought the tickets. She'll be meeting you at the Chico train station," Hohenheim said. "I'm not exactly sure when that'll be_**. **_She says it's the last stop."

Ed gaped at his father. Chico? Where was Chico? Was it even in California? Maybe it was in Canada. But they didn't have trains that went all the way up to Canada and it would involve a passport.

"Where is Chico?" Ed asked. He didn't want to ask what state it was in. That would only alert Hohenheim to his ignorance.

"Northern California," Hohenheim answered. "I hear it's quite pretty in the summer."

"Yeah well, I'm going to go pack," Ed muttered_**.**_ "See you in the morning."

................

Ed struggled not to slam the door. Winry had already told him off for being 'terribly immature' as she put it. Slamming his door would only give her more 'evidence'. Not that she had any_**. **_Well, nothing that would hold up in court, anyway.

He still couldn't believe Hohenheim was capable of this. Sure, Ed didn't want to live with Hohenheim, but couldn't he have waited until after Christmas? Granted it would just be a tense fiasco with Al ignoring him and all, but still it was Christmas. Ed would even buy Hohenheim a semi-thoughtful gift if it meant spending Christmas with Al.

Ed sighed. There was no way he could convince Hohenheim to let him stay for Christmas. The train was already booked, and judging by the time, it was probably the last train available. The trains probably shut down on Christmas and the day after. Hohenheim and Al's flight probably didn't stop in Chico, if it stopped at all. There was simply no way Ed could spend the holidays with Al. Ed was just going to have to accept that fact.

Still, he'd bought Al a present and, on Winry's urging, had it wrapped at the kiosk in the mall. Ed dug the small box out of his closet. It was neatly wrapped with shiny gold paper that was covered with snow flakes. Ed personally thought it was rather lame, but Winry had referred to it as 'tasteful' and had given Ed a _look_ when he started to say something. Ed had shut up. Winry had probably smuggled a socket wrench into her purse and he didn't want a concussion. Winry had helped him pick (and pay for) the gift, so the least Ed could do was let her choose the wrapping paper, even though he thought it was girly.

Ed sighed. He hadn't wanted to move to Washington, but Chico? Even with Ed's limited command of Spanish (Hola, adios, amigos, taco…) he knew that Chico meant small. Ed, never one to believe in omens, knew this was a bad one. There was going to be nothing interesting in a town called 'Small.'

Ed unthinkingly reached for the phone, about to call Jeff. But he was in Chicago, visiting relatives for Christmas. And even before he'd left, he'd been distant. Of course, Ed had just broken up with Jeff, but he was the only person, aside from Winry, who Ed could really talk to.

It wasn't fair, Ed thought for the hundredth time.

"Ed, are you going to continue to be terribly immature or come out and eat dinner?" Winry demanded. Ed glared at the door. Winry sighed gustily.

"If you don't stop angsting you're going to turn emo."

If there was any justice in the world the door should have caught fire due to the intensity of the glare Ed was giving it. He was not emo! However, life wasn't fair and the door remained unharmed.

"Fine! Be a rotten guest! See if I care!" Winry shouted at the door. Ed could just picture her, with her hands thrown up in the air in disgust.

WHAM!

"Ow! Damn you Ed!" Winry wailed as she limped off down the hall. And how is it my fault if you kicked the door_**?**_ Ed wanted to ask. But that would involve opening the door and mocking an irritable Winry. Neither of which were a good idea at the moment.

Ed sighed. Might as well start packing.

........................

Later that night Winry snuck through the house. She'd thought that Ed and Al would've had more time together_**,**_ or at least enough time to exchange presents when both of them were awake. However_**,**_ they didn't_**,**_ and it was only logical for Winry to sneak into Ed's room, get his present for Al, give it to Al, sneak into Al's, get his present for Ed, and give it to Ed.

It was brilliant plan, Winry thought before she tripped over Trez Pies. She froze, gripping the walls of the hallway. Fortunately the dog remained asleep.

Winry breathed a sigh of relief. If that didn't wake everyone up_**,**_ then nothing would.

"Winry?" a small voice questioned. Winry spun around_**,**_ about to shriek.

It was only Al. Winry bit back a scream. She didn't see how Al could be so quiet. It wasn't natural.

"Can you give this to Ed?" Al asked_**,**_ shoving a neatly wrapped rectangular box at her. "I'm not going to see him in the morning."

"Sure," Winry said brightly. This simplified things. Al was always good with gifts and therefore didn't come running to Winry for help, unlike a certain blond eyed and haired male.

"Did he—"

"Of course he did, Al," Winry said, giving Al a big hug. "You don't think Ed would let a little thing like his wrapping skills stop him, do you?"

"More like a big thing," Al said with a sad smile. "And don't let Ed open the present tonight."

"Yeah I—"

"Would you two go back to bed?!" Pinako's shrill but muffled voice exclaimed. Al smiled, whispered 'thanks' and went back to his room. Winry turned around and proceeded into Ed's bedroom.

She placed her hand on the cool still brass doorknob. It turned beneath her hand and Winry nearly avoided screaming for the second time.

"YARGH!" Ed shouted. Winry winced. Ed could be so overdramatic, especially where__milk and ladders were concerned.

"Ed, shut up!" Winry hissed as she opened the door to find a very terrified Ed. "You know, maybe I should tell Russell he was right. You do scream like a girl_**.**_" Ed glowered. "And I think your hair—_"_

"What do you want?" Ed growled. It was near midnight. He was going to have to get up in four hours. Winry was mocking his hair and height. He hated life.

"Here, this is from Al. Now give me the gift for Al," Winry said_**,**_ thrusting the package at Ed. Ed took it, looking puzzled.

"Do you honestly think he'd forget?" Winry asked, unsure if she wanted to hear the answer. Boys could be so impossibly dense at times.

"No_**,**_ but..." Ed flung his arms around Winry_**,**_ and she felt his hot tears. _Poor Ed, he's had to go through so much,_ Winry thought as she rubbed his back.

"Thanks," he whispered in her hair, echoing Al. Winry smiled. They were so much alike. It was heartbreaking to see them mad at each other and heart wrenching to know that both of them were going to be gone tomorrow.

"Now where's Al's gift?" Winry asked, when Ed had pulled away.

"Here_**.**_" Ed handed her the neat kiosk-wrapped package. He gave the package from Al an appraising look, and Winry's eyes narrowed. She knew that look. She'd suffered through too many Christmases and birthdays with Ed not to recognize it.

"Don't you dare. Al said you weren't to open it tonight."

Ed looked around innocently.

"Don't pretend to be innocent. It's not becoming," Winry said, giving Ed a strong look.

"I'm not going to open it to_night_," Ed said_**,**_ not meeting Winry's eyes.

"At least wait till you're on the train."

"But that's over four hours," Ed whined.

"Tough luck," Winry said, "Now get to bed. You're already rotten enough in the morning."

"Fine," Ed muttered. "And thanks Winry. This means a lot to me."

"Don't forget to write," Winry reminded him. "Not knowing this address is not an excuse."

"I will."

......................

Hohenheim did not like mornings. That was his first thought upon waking up. His second was, Damn Izumi. I need coffee was the third. Where the hell are my pants, followed.

"I really hate mornings," Hohenheim muttered to the three legged dog that decided to sleep in his room. The hallway just wasn't safe enough. It whined and gave him a pitying look before returning to sleep. Hohenheim envied that dog. _He_ could go back to sleep. _He_ hadn't left his wife. _He_ wasn't getting married again in the spring. _He_ didn't have to drive an unwilling teenager to the train station.

He needed coffee badly if he was already envying dogs. Hohenheim groaned. Sue always said it was unhealthy to have mental conversations with yourself. By her standards he was probably insane. He'd lost arguments to himself before.

He seriously needed coffee.

Hohenheim heaved himself out of bed and glanced at the floor.

Fuck.

Where were his pants?

...................

Ed groaned. He hated mornings. Especially early mornings. He hated Hohenheim_**, **_and the smell of coffee was making him sick. Like the train was probably going to make him sick. Ed scowled. Why couldn't he just fly up? Granted the flights were probably all full now and it would be near impossible to get a flight to Chico from San Diego, and he'd probably get really sick on a plane.

Ed rolled over and fell out bed. He landed there with a thump. Early mornings were not Ed's best time. Neither were late mornings. Ed flung an arm out, hoping to grab some article of clothing. His outstretched fingers met with nothing. Ed flopped his arm around. Still nothing. Then Ed touched his suitcase.

_Shit!_ Ed thought_**,**_ cracking an eye open. A large black object obscured Ed's vision of the opposite wall. Ed fought the urge to smack himself. He knew he should have laid out clothes the night before. Or at least left some clothes unpacked. Now he would have to dig through all the clothes and things he'd packed last night.

Ed sat up, kicking himself free of the sheets, and pulled the suitcase over to him. He jerked the zipper and rummaged around in it. His finger tips slipped on smooth leather.

Oh God no. Not these pants. If he wore these everyone on the train would think he was gay. Jeff had gotten them as a joke (or so Ed believed) calling them Ed's "coming out" present. No self-respecting straight man would ever wear _these_ leather pants. Ed suspected that it had less to do with the tight fit and more to do with the rainbow pocket lining. However, the pants were tight enough to give any straight male parent a heart attack. Hohenheim would freak.

Ed pulled out the pants.

...................

Hohenheim took a sip of his coffee and nearly choked. Ed, his son, his own flesh and blood, was wearing black leather pants. And not just any leather pants, but tight fitting leather pants. His shirt was tight fitting as well. It was one of the Gap shirts, product(red) or something for charity. Instead of the nicer DESI(RED), INSPI(RED), or even the delinquently juvenile HAMME(RED) Ed had BO(RED) printed across his chest in white.

Hohenheim suppressed a groan. If Ed's shirt was any indicator of his mood then he better stop at Starbucks and order a Whiskey In Black Coffee. Of course_**,**_ that was another thing he would have to do without this morning. This was California_**,**_ and due to some mom the legal limit for alcohol was very, very low.

"Do you want to eat here or on the train?" Hohenheim asked bracing himself. He hoped Ed wanted to eat out. That way he could at least get out of this cramped house. He'd already bumped his head on the top of the doorway twice this morning and had spent last night walking into the strings on the fans. It was beginning to irritate him. Not that Ed would notice_**;**_ he probably thought the house was just right. The midget.

"What?" Ed asked, pulling out his ear buds. Hohenheim's eye twitched. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was iPods and teenagers, especially when they were together. Ed was behaving just like the typical sulking teenager. All annoying shirts and loud music. And he was slouching.

"Do you want to eat here or out?" Hohenheim ground out past his gritted teeth.

"Sure," Ed said, his eyes half closing.

"Here," Hohenheim poured Ed a generous amount of his coffee and shoved it towards him. Ed yawned and took the mug, wordlessly. He swallowed most of it in a single gulp. Hohenheim glared at him. That coffee was supposed to be strong. No mere teenager should be able to drink it. Even college students should choke on their first try. Hohenheim had.

"So where are we eating?" Ed asked, rubbing his eyes and finally opening them fully.

"Starbucks," Hohenheim said shortly. It was the only place where one was guaranteed a standardized breakfast. He wasn't in the mood to take any risks concerning food. Hohenheim just hoped Ed wasn't one of those people that hated Starbucks because it was a chain store. "And you might want to grab a jacket. Izumi said the weather was a bit colder than usual this year."

"I'll grab a jacket," Ed said with a shrug.

"Wear one on the way up," Hohenheim said. He hoped Ed had a jacket. It would be cruel to send a San Diego kid up to Northern California without any sort of warm clothes. Especially since they were having a record breaking amount of snow. Though it was Chico. Any snow was record breaking.

"So when are we going to go?" Ed asked, taking another swig of Hohenheim's prized black coffee and putting one ear bud back in.

"Now, if you want," Hohenheim ground out. He passionately hated sulking teenagers. If it wasn't for the adverse effect on population control, Hohenheim would be all for locking everyone from 13 to 19 up in a confined space. No one else was for that idea and it would involve sacrificing valuable real estate to the teens.

Ed shrugged again. "Whatever," he said, walking over to a cabinet and taking out a bottle of pills. He unzipped his suitcase and stuffed them in there. Hohenheim raised a golden eyebrow.

"My Luvox," Ed said_**,**_ as if that explained it all_**,**_ and shrugged.

Great, his son was on happy pills. So in addition to being a pyromaniac and gay, Ed was also depressed. How did he manage to have a son like this? Then there was Al, perfectly normal and utterly patient Al. It was mind boggling to believe that they were brothers.

"Need any help—"

"I can manage," Ed interrupted with a scowl.

"I'll wait in the car then," Hohenheim said, walking out of the cramped kitchen.

......................................................

Review, if you dare. I always reply. Unless it's anonymous and there's no email. But then I can't. If you don't like the fact that Ed is gay, pyro, or on Luvox, flaming is not advised since he's pyro and Envy will watch.


	6. Envy

So. I apologize for getting any part of the train horribly terrible wrong. I was on a train. Once. Eight years ago. In Finland. I'm basing the train off of that and the trains I saw in the FMA anime/manga. So if it's actually anything like a real train, much less the Starlight, I'll be amazed.

I do not own the Coast Starlight. It's the perfect, for writers. Who are writing about it. It can travel at the speed of plot whilst arousing no suspicions. It gets people to their destinations on time a whopping 2% of the time. It's generally 5-11 hrs. late. Admittedly it does not go to San Diego. It stops at LA. San Diego is further south. It really has been nicknamed the Starlate.

Here's the wikipedia article on it:

.org/wiki/Coast_Starlight

This is the link to the music video by Ash (which I do not own):

/watch?v=qQ-m7kRi87I

They suck, but they have a song named Envy so…

Here is what the earrings look like:

.com/res/img/subcat_pearls_earrings_

List of things I do not own:

Ash

FMA

JC Penney

Wet

Coast Starlight

The Veela Enigma

Dragon Tamer

**Chapter Six Envy**

Envy, envy, envy.

Breathless, weak I'm distracted, I wanna get under your skin.  
A fever, you leave my mouth dry, but, I can't do anything.  
Can't stop this burning from within

-Ash, Envy

Hohenheim was silent on the way to Starbucks. That was fine with Ed. He didn't want to talk to anyone right now, especially That Bastard. Ed shifted and the light blue sweatshirt pulled tight, making him scowl. He'd gotten the sweatshirt when he was in fourth grade for the class field trip to San Francisco. The only size they'd had left was extra large_**,**_ and all Ed remembered about the trip, besides the fog, was everyone making fun of him and his huge sweatshirt. Winry had said that it made him look scrawny. He'd kicked her and the teacher had gotten mad.

Now the jacket was too small. Ed would have much preferred to wear his windbreaker, but Hohenheim insisted that he wear the sweatshirt. Ed fiddled with the sleeves_**.**_ He'd never needed to wear it in San Diego, and it couldn't be that much colder in Chico. If anything, Chico would be hotter since San Diego had the coastal breeze.

Ed braced himself as Hohenheim floored the rental car in a desperate attempt to make the light. Ed didn't see what drove Hohenheim to take more risks than a teenage boy in a sports car. He was supposed to be older, more mature_**,**_ and concerned about his son's motion sickness.

Ed flung out his arms just in time to save himself from painful contact with the dashboard when a puttering old car cut in front of them. Hohenheim muttered something under his breath about the driver's mother.

Ed glared at Hohenheim. He had felt safer when Winry was driving_**,**_ and she alternated between speeding and going far too slow. Anything was better than this. From the way Hohenheim drove, it would be safe to assume he was imagining himself on a racetrack. 'Well, folks it looks like Old Auntie Ethel has just cut in front of Hohenheim Elric! How will he react? Will he be able to win the race at this rate?'

Oh yes, that was definitely what was going on in his head, Ed thought viciously as the light turned green and Hohenheim honked at the poor old woman in front of him. She slowly rolled down her window and flipped him the bird. Ed stared at her in shock. She looked to be about eighty and seemed like one of those sweet old grannies, not like Pinako.

Hohenheim's eye twitched_**,**_ and he floored the car and blasted into on coming traffic. Normally the streets of San Diego were deserted early in the morning. However_**,**_ this was Tuesday and one of the cafés had food delivered on Tuesdays. At least that's the best possible explanation Ed could come up with for the presence of the delivery truck bearing down on them.

Hohenheim didn't even flinch at the oncoming headlights. Instead he floored it and they shot through the gap between the old lady and the truck. Ed nearly threw up. Then Hohenheim really stepped on it and they flew forward again. He casually flicked his left hand signal on, and then, without even bothering to slow down for the turn (if anything they went faster), Hohenheim sent them careening around a corner and into a flock of pigeons. They pigeons scattered. Ed's suitcase slid to the other side of the car where it hit with a dull thud. Hohenheim swore and honked. Ed just stared at him, with the growing feeling that he was going to be lucky to escape this alive. Never mind the contents of his stomach.

Hohenheim suddenly flicked his signal on and turned the wheel, with a second or two for lag time. In the next second Hohenheim sent the car barreling into the Starbucks parking lot. Ed's suitcase slid to the other side. Ed winced and hoped that Al's present wasn't fragile. Another race-car turn sent them hurdling into a parking space. The car was silent. Hohenheim had stopped the motor.

Ed unbuckled his seatbelt, and practically dove out of the car. Once out in the cool salty air he stood on shaking legs and breathed deeply. He was alive. That was…something, Ed thought as he walked towards the building, ignoring Hohenheim's fiddling with the keys. Starbucks was going to have a hell of a time removing the skid that started at the entrance and ended on the other side of the parking lot.

Ed opened the door and was greeted with the faint ding of a bell and the sickening smell of over-sweet coffee. This Starbucks looked exactly like every other Starbucks that Ed had been inside. Clean, faux cozy, and vaguely green. Only now there was no glowering redheaded presence breathing over Ed's shoulder and coming precariously close to his ear, muttering about the evil capitalism of the place.

"Espresso, four shots, no milk," Hohenheim said to the sleepy looking waitress as he walked in. Ed glared at him. He'd been thinking of Jeff and how the redhead always delighted in Ed's discomfort, especially in public. Hohenheim had killed that train of thought before it had a chance to be fully realized. Not that it could really go anywhere thanks to the Luvox, but still.

"Is that all?" the woman asked, her eyes half closed behind her thick black glasses.

"Ed?" Hohenheim asked.

"A grande chai latte and a raspberry scone," Ed said automatically, staring at his feet. Jeff would have ordered a blueberry muffin. That was the only thing he'd ever buy at Starbucks. He wouldn't even get water from Starbucks. Whenever Ed had asked him about that he'd start muttering about its inherent evilness. Ed had never understood why Jeff hated Starbucks. It wasn't like the store had done anything bad, save for becoming highly successful. Still Jeff hated it and Ed didn't question it. Mostly because if he did, Jeff would make comments about milk and Ed's height_**,**_ or as Jeff put it, lack thereof.

"That's all?" the sleepy woman asked, flipping her black bangs out of her face. She looked more awake now. Well, maybe not more awake_**,**_ but less comatose.

Hohenheim nodded. Ed ignored him and turned up his music. The harsh fast paced drumming of Ash drowned out the subtler sounds of Nora Jones. Ed mouthed the words of the chorus_**,**_ 'Sunshine in the Morning.' He tapped his foot to the fast beat.

"Here," Hohenheim said, scowling as he handed Ed his chai tea and a bag. Ed took a sip of the tea and was met with a mouth of whipped cream. Right, because Starbucks always added whipped cream regardless of your preferences. Ed swallowed it down and grabbed a stirring stick from the jar on the counter. Whipped cream was far too much like milk for Ed's comfort.

The parking lot was chilly after being in the warm building_**,**_ and Ed shivered before catching Hohenheim's concerned glance. Ed glared back. He didn't need That Bastard's sympathy and he certainly didn't need a larger coat. This one was fine. It was more than enough.

Ed opened the door to the dark blue sedan and sat down in the passenger seat, feeling like he was willingly agreeing to torture by motion sickness.

…………

On the way to the train station, Ed tried everything he could think of to avoid throwing up. Normally he would have drunk his tea, but he didn't want to risk spilling it all over his lap, a real hazard thanks to Hohenheim's crazed driving. Instead, Ed counted sheep, crossed his eyes, and contemplated suicide.

"Here you go," Hohenheim said, screeching to a stop at the San Diego Train Station parking lot. Ed scrambled out of the car. He breathed in the cool sea breeze for what was most likely the last time. He savored the tang of the salty air before opening the door and grabbing his suitcase.

Last night, when he'd discovered there was only one suitcase he could use, Ed had made Winry promise to send up more of his belongings later_**,**_ when she had time to pack them. She'd called him short, mocked his packing skills, and eventually promised she'd send them up, in return for letters.

"Here's the ticket," Hohenheim said, handing Ed a small piece of paper. "Come on, you don't want to miss the train."

Ed shot Hohenheim a glare and trudged along after him, lugging his suitcase along the concrete pathway. The suitcase banged against his left leg. Ed ignored it and followed Hohenheim through the dark passageway. There were posters of what Ed assumed were advertisements. Though they could've been porn for all he cared. He was being forcefully removed from his home and therefore was in no mood to see whatever advertisements the local train station put up. Besides, it was too dark to make out most of them.

As they reached the end of the dark hallway, Ed glanced up and saw that there was more on the wooden walls than just posters; there were windows, most of which were dark. Ed guessed that there were offices for the stations employees. The wall on the left dropped away and they were once again exposed to the cool San Diego breeze.

Hohenheim walked up to the only ticket window open and glared at the newspaper he was faced with. The man behind said paper slowly lowered it, returning Hohenheim's glare. He, Ed thought, looked more like a crusty old seaman or a pirate than a ticket collector. The patch across his right eye did not help matters.

"Ticket for the 4 o'clock Starlight," Hohenheim said in clipped tones before taking another gulp of coffee. Ed peeked through the window. The man's office was minuscule, hardly larger than the average closet. The rough wooden walls were covered with framed black-and-white photos of old trains. The plain desk and its accompanying tables took up most of the space, leaving the old man with barely enough room to turn around. There was a computer in the corner and small photos decorated its edges, like a shrine to the man's family. Ed stared at the pictures and nearly gasped out loud in disbelief. Instead of faded snapshots of small children and a woman, there were more pictures of trains.

"Just one?" the man queried, raising a thick gray eyebrow. Hohenheim nodded but didn't explain. The man shrugged, placing his newspaper down. Ed stared at his feet. What sort of person had pictures of trains in his office instead of family photos? Sure, the man worked at a train station, but still.

"Starlight you say?" the man asked again. He even sounded like a pirate, Ed thought idly as Hohenheim nodded.

"It hasn't come in yet," he said_**,**_ as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"What do you mean it hasn't come in yet?" Hohenheim asked. "Is it late?"

"It's the Starlight," the man said with another shrug, as if that explained everything. Of course, it might have meant something to that man and anyone else who had ever ridden the Starlight, but it didn't mean a thing to Hohenheim or even Ed. Even though he'd grown up in San Diego_**,**_ he'd never ridden the train before.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hohenheim demanded.

"It's always late," the man answered_**,**_ thrusting his newspaper up. Ed turned up his music. Of all the trains he'd had to get_**,**_ it had to be the one that was constantly late. It probably had loads of turbulence or whatever the railway equivalent was.

"Do you have any idea of when it's going to be in?" Hohenheim asked, grinding his teeth.

"No." was the curt reply, emphasized by a flap of the paper.

Hohenheim glared at the man again. It didn't do much good.

A train whistle blew in the distance. The man looked up over his newspaper. The action reminded Ed a hound scenting the breeze. The man's droopy jowls only magnified the effect.

"It's in," the man said, before returning to his newspaper. Hohenheim fixed the man with a steady glare, mouth partway open to deliver a stinging sarcastic remark. Ed slouched into the wall. His father was being so immature. Ed didn't see how Al was going to be able to stand him. Al complained enough about Ed's immaturity and Ed wasn't even an adult.

"The Starlight Express has entered the station," a clear feminine voice rang out on the PA system. Hohenheim's eye twitched. Ed smirked. Serves the stupid bastard right, he thought.

"Loading place is that way," the man inside said_**,**_ pointing to his right. Hohenheim glared at him again before stalking off in the direction the man had pointed. Ed followed, keeping a health_**y**_ distance. He could practically feel Hohenheim's rotten mood radiating off of him. And if Ed was picking up something like that, it was bad, or at least that's what Winry would have said. Well, that's what Winry would have meant when she said 'You sense emotions like Pinako senses burning food.' That statement was further emphasized by a cloud of thick black smoke emerging from the kitchen.

Hohenheim stopped suddenly and Ed nearly walked into him. Ed glared at his father while he read the ticket.

"It's this one," Hohenheim said, finally giving Ed his ticket. Ed glanced at it before looking at the train. It was lightish colored with blue stripes. A few people got off the train and blinked dazedly.

"Good luck," Hohenheim said. Ed stared back at him, waiting for Hohenheim to do something. He did nothing. Ed ducked his head as he realized what he'd been waiting for. A hug.

"Bye," Ed said barely managing to keep the disappointment and wistfulness out of his voice. Dammit! He didn't need anything from That Bastard. And he didn't want anything from him either.

"Here," Hohenheim said, awkwardly thrusting a small box at Ed.

"Thanks," Ed said, nodding, a small smile twitching at his lips. He hadn't expected anything and therefore hadn't gotten Hohenheim a thing. Though he was sure Al would come up with something touching from the both of them.

"Goodbye Edward. Give my best to Izum—Mrs. Curtis," Hohenheim said, his voice dull and flat, save for the last bit, which was said as fast as possible. Ed said nothing. If this woman was so terrifying that she could make a grown man flinch whenever he uttered her name, then why was his father sending him to live with her_**?**_

"Bye," Ed said, his voice equally devoid of emotion. "Tell Al I'll miss him."

And with that he boarded the train.

………………….

Ed walked down the isles looking for an empty seat. He felt exactly the same as he had five minutes prior. It wasn't logical but he'd been expecting something to change. In the instant he'd stepped onto the train he'd stepped out of Hohenheim's control and out of what he knew. He figured that such an event should be coupled with a corresponding sensation. He should at least _feel_ like he'd started a new chapter in his life.

He didn't.

Ed took his time choosing where to sit. He wanted a window seat. Well, what he'd really wanted was a bed, but his ticket was not for a sleep coach and he had to make do with a bench seat.

Ed eventually settled on one by a window and near the front of the coach. He spotted Hohenheim and waved. He waved back. Then the engine started and the train pulled away from the station.

Now Ed should really feel like he was beginning his journey into the unknown. Instead he felt nervous and slightly homesick. Was this how the Lewis and Clark expedition felt, Ed wondered, before they'd left to go explore the Louisiana Territory_**?**_ Of course, it had probably sucked more for them, since they could be killed. And in some cases they _were_ killed. Ed, however, wasn't going to die any time soon.

Ed sighed and stared out the window, watching dark shapes flash past his window. He still couldn't believe all of this was happening to him. It seemed like only yesterday he looking forward to summer vacation, like any normal boy was. Not that Ed could ever be normal_**;**_ he had a boyfriend and jacked off to fire. Normal people just didn't do that.

Then things started to go downhill. They'd had a 4th of July party at the twins' place with just the four of them. There'd been alcohol there. Mark and Davis insisted that everyone had some. Even Slash had unbent from his usual position (It's demon-brew and I'm not touching it) and drank a glass. Jeff had no inhibitions and easily downed a beer and a half. He would have drunk more if it hadn't been for Ed.

Ed, it turned out, could not hold his liquor. He'd gotten drunk off a single beer. It was then Mark and Davis had discovered just what type of drunk he was. An obedient drunk.

In retrospect_**,**_ that had probably been the time when Mark and Davis came up with their Plan. Jeff hadn't liked the devious looks in the twins' eyes and had started looking for a way out. Ed hadn't liked Jeff's method of escape. Jeff_**,**_ on the other hand_**,**_ had found it hilarious. His brilliant plan was Give Ed So Much Beer He Throws Up.

Ed did not consider it brilliant per say, but it had worked. Though he'd always thought that Pinako suspected that it wasn't food poisoning that led to Ed's horrible vomiting. She'd never said anything and Ed had felt it best to let sleeping dogs lay.

The train slowed to a stop and more sleepy people filed on to the train. Ed sighed as he watched them through his window. There was a lady in a nightgown and robe saying goodbye to a man in a crisp business suit. He was wearing slippers, Ed noted apathetically. They were pink and fluffy.

After a few more minutes the train started off again.

……………

Normally the gentle rocking of the coaches and soft sounds of the train would be enough to send Edward into a deep sleep. However, the coffee that Hohenheim had brewed kept Ed from falling asleep. That ruined his plan to sleep on the train. Now he didn't have anything to do.

He stared down at Hohenheim's present.

The box was small and looked like it had originally been an expensive jewelry box. The top was dark blue, plain and without any ornamentation. The bottom was a creamy white, with some French looking design embossed on it. It was not a masculine box.

Ed eyed it warily. It was far too elegant to be something Hohenheim would just pick up. Perhaps That Tramp had something to do with it.

With that thought in mind Ed lifted the lid. A note on faded parchment fluttered out and landed on the floor. Ed picked it up and read it.

_For our eldest daughter_, the note read:

_Wishing you nothing but the best on your special day. Have a sweet sixteen and treasure these pearls of wisdoms._

_Love,_

_Trisha and Hohenheim, your proud parents._

Ed glanced at the other sheet of paper. It read:

_Ed,_

_Sorry I didn't have a real Christmas present for you. I found this in a box. The necklace was your mom's. Her parents gave it to her on her sixteenth birthday. When she was pregnant with you, we went out looking for earrings. She picked them out. She was so excited about having a daughter and then well, you can see what happened._

Ed glared at the paper. It made sense. Things he'd thought were strange suddenly seemed normal, expected in fact. Like how his mom had never complained about the length of Ed's hair (17 inches and growing). And that day when she taught him how to French-braid his own hair. She'd never complained about buying Ed hair ties or how they ended up all over the house. He'd wondered about that and now he knew. He was supposed to be a girl. That sucked.

Though, maybe Mom wouldn't have minded Jeff so much, Ed wondered. He shook his head. It didn't matter now.

Ed read the rest of the note.

_So, we never had a reason to get the necklace. Trisha sent me hers a couple of years ago. She wanted me to give it to either you or Al (depending on who had a daughter first). But I decided to give it to you. Since Al's getting her engagement ring (to give to his wife) I thought you deserved something of hers. _

_Have fun at Izumi Mrs. Curtis's!_

_Hohenheim Ulbrecht Elric_

Ed glanced down at the open box. The necklace and earrings were covered by white tissue paper. Ed tore it open. On a bed of white cotton there was a necklace of medium sized pearls. Ed touched it reverently. His mother had worn this. And his daughter would, if she could exist. Ed wasn't betting on it. Ed reread Hohenheim's note. He wondered when it had been written. Al was getting an engagement ring. Yep, either Al had blabbed or Hohenheim had seen them. Oh well, there wasn't much he could do about it. He was on a train and Hohenheim was going to be in Washington with the heathens.

Remembering the earrings, Ed opened the box.

The earrings were nice, Ed supposed. Instead of being one pearl in each ear things like Ed imagined, they were clusters of four teardrop-shaped pearls. They were still studs, Ed discovered as he peered at the box.

Ed guessed that giving him the earrings had been a nice gesture, aside from the fact that Hohenheim had just about said 'Your mom wished you were a girl.' The necklace was also nice, regardless of the fact that it was meant for a girl. But what was he going to do with earrings and a necklace? He was a guy. He couldn't just wear earrings like that. Maybe if they were small and single pearls, but those clusters were so utterly feminine that he'd be beat up within an instant of walking outside.

Oh well, perhaps he'd meet some guy and _adopt_ a child someday, if it were ever legal in the US. Ed scowled at the thought. Sometimes he really hated the system.

In no mood to stare out the window any longer, Ed attempted to yank his iPod out of his pocket. It didn't budge. Cursing his leather pants, Jeff's desire to see him in skin tight leather, and That Bastard, Ed carefully wriggled the iPod out of his pocket. Choosing a playlist at random Ed jammed the earbuds in his ear.

The song of the electric guitar surrounded Ed. The lead singer counted to four and the drums started.

Ed smiled. Ash was his favorite band and this was one of his favorite songs on that album.

He tapped his foot along to the beat, humming along with it. He knew all the words, but he didn't want to wake anyone up with his singing. That would be the most embarrassing thing that could happen.

The music video was awesome, Ed reflected. And not just because two guys made out. Though it was pretty hot. Jeff had seen it once and insisted they hire a cab to reenact the scene. Ed had just barely managed to convince Jeff they didn't need that girl between them.

Ed smiled and closed his eyes. He mouthed the words of the chorus as he fell asleep: 'Envy, envy, envy, envy, envy." The song faded out as Ed fell asleep.

…………

"ENVY!"

"What?" he asked, flipping his recently shortened hair back. The tall girl leaned against his doorway.

"You know what day today is, right?" she asked, slipping her long black hair back.

"The 19th," Envy answered before turning back to his motorcycle magazine.

"Exactly," the girl replied.

"You have a point?" Envy asked, raising his eyebrow.

"Mom, have you seen the Greensleeves Arrangement?" another girl yelled.

"Oh shit! Insanity!" Envy shouted and dived off the bed. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Because, you were supposed to remember," Insanity said. She glanced around the messy room. "Your shirt is on your desk. Your tie is hanging from the lampshade. Your pants are in the closet. Your socks are dangling off of the fan. And your shoes are at the front door. And girls don't dig the my-room-looks-like-I-had-wild-sex-with-some-one-who-wasn't-you look."

Envy had been about to thank Insanity but he shut his mouth after her last comment. He grabbed his socks and hastily pulled them on.

"Of course, guys might dig that—"

"Get out!" Envy shouted. Insanity ignored him as he ripped off his shirt and tried to button the crisp white one.

"The button holes are uneven," Insanity said glancing at her watch. It was quarter to seven_**,**_ and Sloth's recital started at eight. Mom was taking a client that refused to cooperate with her firm there. She was hoping that several hours of beginning violinists butchering various classical pieces would convince him. Insanity wasn't sure it was going to convince him of anything, save Lust's cruelty.

"Shut up!" Envy muttered, undoing the buttons. Insanity smirked. Normally Envy would have been trying to weasel out of going. He'd be complaining about sitting through about one or two hours of bad to mediocre violin playing before it was Sloth's turn. It happened every year since the small group of classical violin teachers, who banded together bi-annually to reserve Laxon Auditorium, decided to follow the rule 'best for last.'

While that rule can be nice, especially for preschool teachers longing to end the cries of 'I got it first!', it can be downright cruel for audiences. Especially since some of the teachers had very young students who were also very ambitious. Sure they looked darling with their 1/4, and in some cases 1/16 violins, but hearing them scratch out Flight Of The Bumblebee (the whole damn thing too) was not cute.

Envy had been trying to explain this to Sloth when she'd cracked him across the shins with a frying pan.

Since then Envy hadn't complained about the recital.

"Found it!" Sloth shouted before yelling " ENVY! Come on!"

……

Baby, C'mon baby, C'mon baby, c'mon.

Ed was dreaming.

How could he tell? Simple. Charlotte's shoe sandal things weren't black. And they weren't skin tight.

Her hair wasn't that long either. She didn't walk towards him like a boy either. Her hips swayed as she took off her guitar and flung it away. It made no sound or if it did Ed didn't notice because he suddenly realized that Charlotte wasn't wearing the pink dress anymore and wasn't a girl either.

The boy sauntered towards Ed, smirking slightly. The tight blank tank he was wearing had slid up to reveal washboard abs. Ed's mouth watered. He eyed the strange get up the guy was wearing. It appeared to be a black skirt with biker shorts underneath. Too many layers, Ed thought.

'Like what you see?' the boy mouthed at Ed. Ed nodded weakly. As the boy drew closer, Ed saw that he was taller than him, a lot taller. The boy knelt before crawling towards Ed. Ed gulped. Even in his dream he was embarrassed. The boy stopped when he was practically on top of Ed.

"Are you embarrassed?" the boy questioned, his voice pleasantly androgynous. Ed blushed fiercely and shook his head; his blond bangs fell down across his face, shielding him from view.

"You sure?" the voice teased and Ed felt the boy practically crawl over him. His lovely long legs felt wonderful against Ed's bare ones. Ed glanced down and suddenly realized he was naked. Completely and utterly naked. He turned red again and tried to bring his knees up to his chest.

Ed realized that that was the wrong thing to do seconds after the action. The boy toppled over onto Ed. Ed turned bright red and tried to stammer out something.

"I-I-I-I can explain," he stuttered his eyes not leaving the green haired boy's head which lay upon his chest. Ed's breathing quickened and he hardened. The other boy shifted in such a way that convinced Ed that his 'friend' was very well acquainted with Ed's not-so-small problem. Seeing as said problem was currently prodding him in the stomach.

The boy looked up and Ed stared into eyes that made his look normal. They were a vivid purple, impossible to pass off as 'very dark blue.'

"Can you really?" the boy murmured. Ed shivered. The boy's voice was suddenly low and he could feel its vibrations. Ed blushed a brilliant shade of red. The boy smirked before dropping his head down to Ed's chest again. Ed tried to move. Had he-

He felt a warm tongue on his chest and the half-formed thought vanished. He let out a groan. He hadn't done anything like this in ages.

"You're a loud one, aren't you," the boy said before biting Ed's nipple. Ed threw his head back and gasped. For all that he'd gone out with Jeff for months, he still hadn't done anything like this with him. Of course, they'd been avoiding getting caught, but the most adventurous thing he'd done with Jeff was jack off in front of him. Granted it had been for an entire day, but it was nothing compared to what this boy was doing with his teeth.

Ed gasped again as the boy moved downwards. He wondered if the boy wanted him to do something. He wasn't sure of what though. His only experience had been with Jeff and a few printed out fan-fics that Winry had.

There'd also been the disturbing erotica book he'd found in her room that day. However, he didn't think that _Wet_ or _The Veela Enigma _or even _Dragon Tamer_ would help him now. They didn't deal with pathologically innocent characters (aside from Ron).

"Hmm, I guess small guys do have—"

"I'M NOT SMALL ANYWHERE!" Ed yelled and woke up. He panted. That was one weird dream. A pain in his crotch drew his attention to his lower regions.

Ed closed his eyes in shame. Why did this have to happen to him. He glanced around and saw no one. Good. He didn't want to explain anything to anyone right now. He got up and made his way to the bathrooms to take care of his NOT SMALL DAMMIT! problem.

~fin

When Ed referred to the heathens, he meant the Canadians. No offense to any Canadians. I love it there. Your accents are so cool. And I think it's awesome when you guys say 'eh.'

The sex scene was more… well sexy, but I decided that in interfered with the plot. So I shortened it. I assure that Envy will show up more… just wait until they go back to school. Which is January something or other. And it's the 19th.


	7. Norwegian Wood

SO yeah. This week off I have, most unproductive break. Probably because I still have to be awake and present at 8:OO am for Calculus. Yay university classes. So, in addition to that, I also have ski practice on Thursday and a race on Friday. Hence Wednesday night is going to be spent informing my mom, that yes, I do have anything and no I don't want to start packing now.

Norwegian Wood really doesn't have much to do with this chapter at all. But it had more to with it than anything else. And I figured, hey, it's a Beatles song. It _could_ have something to do with the chapter. And I don't know, the song sounds like the speaker's in a slight daze or at least new territory and that's Ed right now. So there, justification.

The stuff with Izumi and Ed on the couch, that's called an unexpected Valentine's gift. Also known as, the first bit of new material you are seeing. As in I did not expect to have to write that.

Playing With Fire

_Because if you play with fire you're going to get burned._

Chapter Seven: Norwegian Wood

I sat on a rug, biding my time, drinking her wine.  
We talked until two and then she said, "it's time for bed".  
She told me she worked in the morning and started to laugh.  
I told her I didn't and crawled off to sleep in the bath.

—The Beatles, Norwegian Wood

After taking care of his problem, Ed bought lunch and was munching on the last of his chips when the train stopped. He looked out his window for the train station. There was nothing but a small wooden platform.

Ed sighed. They were already several hours late from what he'd heard. At the rate they were going they'd get to Chico at seven. Ed looked around for something to do. He really wished he brought a book or something. Then Ed remembered Al's present. He'd waited long enough to appease Winry.

With a grin he tore it out from his suitcase. It was wrapped neatly in snowman patterned paper. Ed smiled, before ripping the package open. The wrapping paper was so Al.

The wrapping paper revealed a plain white photo album. Ed opened it with careful fingers. The first pages were of him and Al as toddlers. Ed flipped through more pages, smiling at the half remembered memories. He smiled at the one, taken on his first fishing trip. He'd been so happy that day that he'd caught the bigger fish. Hohenheim had been so—

Ed turned the page. He stared at the happy woman in picture. She was wearing a white veil, but even through it Ed could see her happy eyes, crinkled at the corners. The pictures on the rest of the page showed her and about ten others dressing. The next pages where of the wedding. Ed smiled at the candid photos. One showed a bridesmaid with partially beaded black hair mock dueling one of the groomsmen with a fork. Another showed the ring bearer and one of the flower girls napping together. Ed smiled again and flipped through the rest of the book. It was a really thoughtful present, something only Al would think of. Ed smiled again before drifting off to sleep.

…0…

"Next stop Chico," a voice crackled out over the loudspeaker. Ed woke with a start. The lights over the walkway were on and it was dark outside. Ed glanced out the window. Snow was falling fast in big thick flakes. Ed gaped at the strange sight. He'd never seen this much snow before. Wondering if this was normal Chico weather Ed turned away from the window and carefully repacked the photo album.

He glanced at his watch. 9:30.

He looked at it again. There was no way it could be 9:30 already. They were supposed to have arrived at 7:00, at the very latest. Trains couldn't be five hours late. That was just absurd.

A terrifying thought occurred to Ed. What if he'd missed his stop? For all he knew there could have been another Chico five hours back. Mrs. Curtis would have been waiting for the past five hours, wondering what had happened to him. Ed would have to spend the night in a strange city all alone because he had fallen asleep.

"There's been another unexpected delay," the loudspeaker wheezed. "We'll arrive half an hour late."

"That's the fifth delay since Davis," a gruff voiced muttered behind Ed. Ed breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't missed his stop. Instead the train was over five hours late.

Ed pressed his nose against the window in boredom. It was freezing. He tugged his light sweatshirt closer around him, glad that he d worn the leather pants. He was still going to be freezing, but it was better than nothing.

…0…

"Bye Wrath!" Izumi Curtis called out, hand on the door. The man at the station had telephoned again to tell her that the train was finally in. She'd been waiting impatiently since four o'clock for the damned thing and now, almost six hours later it was here. Izumi walked to the coat room and grabbed her long red coat off the hook.

Once it was on, she smoothed the rich fur of the ruff into place. The coat was her latest indulgence. Designer and from Italy, it was a PETA activist's worst nightmare. The majority of it was rich suede. The ruff and cuffs originally had belonged to some furry animal, and the inside was lined with mink or some other rodent. She hoped Hohenheim held the wedding in the winter. It'd give her a chance to wear the coat in front of him. The look on his face as he mentally tallied up all the endangered species that went into this coat would be hilarious. And she'd also finally figure out what formerly sleek furred rodent lined the inside.

"I wanna come too!" Wrath yelled as he raced into the coat room and grabbed his purple ski jacket off of the hook. Izumi eyed his attire. As well as his purple and cream ski jacket, Wrath had donned his violet and blue plaid ski pants; around his neck was the lumpy purple scarf that he had knitted himself and was immensely proud of. Crammed on his head was his favorite red and yellow hat. The whole combination made him look gay, colorblind, or insane. Possibly all three.

Izumi eyed the pom-pom on the top warily. It was a scary thing, with enough yellow, red, and metallic gold to make her regret ever teaching Wrath to knit. Perhaps she should encourage less self-expression. Or at least the type of self express that didn't unnerve little old ladies. On the plus side, Wrath was excellent at getting rid of the Jehovah's Nitwits—er _Witness_es and the Mormons.

Wrath tilted his head upwards, giving Izumi puppy-dog eyes. The tassel bobbled dangerously.

"Please?" he entreated, eyes widened. Izumi pulled her intricately braided hair into a high pony tail. The red and green beads at the ends of the braids clinked together. For the seventh time today, Izumi felt incredibly grateful that she hadn't let Wrath add small bells in addition to the gold tinsel in her hair. The noise alone would have driven her insane by now.

"Fine," Izumi said and sent the beads madly clinking with a shake of her head. "Wear your gloves." Izumi muttered as she pulled on her dark brown gloves.

"Yay!" Wrath shouted and pulled o n his pair of obnoxiously vermilion gloves. Izumi suppressed a shudder at the clashing colors and pulled on her own leather boots. Wrath was bent over tying the laces of his blue snow boots. Izumi smiled.

Wrath was so adorable, in a strange slightly unnerving way of course. She hoped that Ed wouldn't be too terrified to stammer a hello. Wrath tended to have that effect on people, especially normal ones. Like the neighbor boy. It'd taken him over a month to get used to Wrath. And even now he still gave Wrath odd looks when he mentioned things like My Little Ponies.

…0…

Ed shivered and walked up the steps of the ancient train station. It was painted a nauseating yellow with brown trim. Whoever had come up with the color scheme was not exactly brilliant. That or had a lot of cheap yellow paint on hand. Why the citizens of Chico didn't have the blasted thing repainted was beyond him. Perhaps they'd gotten so used to it that it just blended into the background. Though Ed failed to see how something so hideous could go unnoticed.

The light only illuminated a small bit of the parking lot which was steadily getting covered in snow. Ed shivered again. What was he going to do? He didn't have any clothes for this weather. The only long pair of pants he had were the ones he had on and he did not want to wear them on his first day of school. He didn't even have a long sleeved t-shirt that fit him.

Ed set his beat up suitcase down. Chico was going to suck.

His toes were cold. Ed looked down at his feet. His shoes were wet. Great, now in addition to everything, his feet were cold and wet. Why hadn't Hohenheim warned about the weather? Granted he'd told Ed to wear a sweatshirt but he didn't mention snow.

Ed slouched against the pale yellow wall and scowled. He couldn't believe his luck. Stuck out here, in the middle of nowhere California, in the cold snow without the proper clothes and was Mrs. Curtis here, waiting for him? NO! Because that would mean something would have gone right.

Ed was so caught up in his thoughts that he failed to notice the midsize SUV pulling up. Therefore, he was quite shocked when two people appeared out of seemingly nowhere.

"Hello," the tall woman said. Ed stared at her, he couldn't help it. She looked strangely familiar even though Ed had never seen her. She was dressed for the weather with a long fur trimmed coat, some form of leg covering that couldn't be nylons (if they were than she was either freezing or inhuman) and long high heeled boots.

Slightly behind her and firmly attached to her left arm was a boy a couple inches shorter than Ed. He was the stranger of the two with his vibrant plaid pants, purple ski jacket, orange gloves, and strange purple scarf. He was also wearing a strange red and gold hat with a disturbingly large pom-pom on the top. The pom-pom was shiny, Ed noted hysterically. The boy was also smiling or showing Ed his teeth, it really could go either way. Ed hesitantly smiled back.

"You must be Edward," the woman spoke again, her voice a low alto.

"I am and you're Mrs. Curtis?" Ed asked his voice suddenly raised.

"Please, call me Izumi," she said and smiled. "You probably—"

"Weren't you in my parents wedding?" Ed blurted out the pieces suddenly fitting together. This was the woman that had fended off the groomsman with a fork. She looked older now, but her hair was still dark brown, nearly black, and her hair was braided. Though now, instead of peach beads in her hair, there were green and red ones along with bits of gold tinsel.

"Yes, I was one of the bridesmaids," Izumi said, smiling widely and the resemblance became more pronounced.

"Did you know my mom?" Ed asked forgetting about the cold and the trip and his wet feet.

"No. I was your father's friend," Izumi replied. "Anyway, you must be freezing, come on." And with that she walked towards the car, leaving Ed gaping as he scrambled to catch up with her.

"How'd you—"

"Ed, this is Wrath," Izumi said as she let out the clutch. "Sig and I are adopting him so he's going to be something of your younger cousin." Wrath grinned manically at Ed from the front seat.

"Oh," Ed said. Wrath looked to be the complete opposite of Al. Al would have never worn those pants or that grin. Of course, Al thought that Ed was going to hell because he was gay, so Wrath couldn't be much worse.

"We also tend to have a lot of foster children in the house, but we're not going to expect you to share a room with any of them. Most of them are younger anyway and shouldn't be too much of a problem. There's a family across the street and they have a boy about your age, so you'll have one friend at least," Izumi said, ignoring the stop sign. "I've enrolled you in one of the local high schools—"

"Can we go by it? Izumi-mommy? Please?" Wrath whined. Izumi scowled and flicked her signal on.

"You'll be going to Chico High. It's almost across the street from Chico Junior where Wrath is, so I'll drop both of you off in the morning. As soon as the weather clears up you can ride to school if you want to. That's what Samuel does. And here it is," Izumi said, slowing down.

Ed stared out the window at the big red brick building. It was covered in a fresh blanket of snow. Someone had already made a snowman or snow_woman_ rather, since this one was wearing a bright teal bra. The main building had two levels, while the other buildings on the side were single story. It looked to be a rather nice school. It was certainly much nicer that the one he had gone to in San Diego.

"It's nice," Ed said when he realized that Izumi and Wrath had been waiting for his response. Wrath grinned widely.

"I hope you like stew," Izumi said.

"Yeah," Ed said and stared out the window. He really couldn't believe he was here, in Chico. Where it apparently snowed a good deal.

"Umm, I don't have any winter clothes," Ed began.

"Oh don't worry, we'll get you some new clothes," Izumi said, honking when a pedestrian didn't get out of her way fast enough. Ed winced. Izumi drove too much like Hohenheim for his comfort.

"Thanks," Ed muttered.

"It's no problem, really," Izumi said, tapping her finger impatiently at the light. Ed tensed as the light turned green, but Izumi's acceleration didn't force Ed into the seat like That Bastard's had.

Ed's stomach growled. It had been hours since his last meal (an over-priced turkey sandwich) and he was starving. He hoped that Izumi had saved a bit of dinner for him. There wasn't a polite way to say 'You're not going to starve me, right?' Ed reflected as he tried to come up with a different way to phrase it. He didn't want to sound whiny and make Izumi consider sending him back. Not that he would really be able to go anywhere. Jeff probably hated him, Slash was gone, and Ed never wanted to see the twins again. It was all their fault, really.

"And here we are," Izumi said pulling in to the driveway of a nice two story house. "There's some leftover beef stew, will you eat that Ed?"

"Yeah," Ed said, getting out of the car.

"Good, one of the neighbor kids is a vege_tahr_ian and Izumi hates having him over for dinner," Wrath said placing extra stress on the 'r' sound. Ed raised an eyebrow. Wrath sounded like someone's old, affected aunt or a New York snob. He glanced at Izumi. She seemed unfazed.

"Come on in Ed, you must be freezing," Izumi said opening the dark wood door. She glanced down at Ed's soaking sneakers. "And take your shoes off, and your socks as well." Ed sat down on the wicker bench and sighed when Wrath closed the door. It was nice and warm in the house.

He fumbled with the flat and frayed Converse laces for a minute before finally working the knot out. He'd never once been able to untie his shoes easily. Al said that it was something about how he tied them that made them tangle. Winry thought it was because he'd learned to tie them the right handed way when he himself was left handed.

That was one of the main reasons he had only one pair of shoes with laces; the rest were slip-ons and flip flops. Though he had a feeling that that was going to change shortly. Owning nothing but flip flops and sandals was highly impractical, unless one lived in some place like Florida or San Diego.

Ed grimaced as he peeled off his soaked white socks. They'd left scaly imprints on his feet. They smelled bad as well. Wrath giggled and Ed hurried up.

"Your bedroom is the second on the right," Izumi said, pointing down a dark hallway. "It's right next to Wrath's room and opposite the laundry room and the bathroom." Ed nodded.

"The kitchen's this way," Wrath piped up, appearing directly behind Ed. Ed jumped and spun around. Wrath was holding his suitcase.

"You're twitchy, anyway, I'll go put this in your room for you, 'kay?" Wrath said before skipping off down the hallway. Ed stared after him, flabbergasted.

"Don't worry, he's a bit… odd at times, but other than that he's a really great kid," Izumi said, trying not to laugh at the look on Ed's face. He looked like he'd never seen someone as strange as his new younger brother; and considering where Ed lived he probably hadn't.

"You don't mind if I microwave the stew?" Izumi asked walking into the kitchen with Ed in tow. "Sig's asleep and I'd rather not use the stove."

"Sure, I don't mind," Ed said looking around the kitchen. The refrigerator was covered with various art projects. Most of them were scribbles but some showed true artistic potential. Not that Ed knew much about art, the most he was capable of were stick figures and even those were terrible.

"Good. Sig made me promise not to use the stove when we got it," Izumi said. Ed shifted his feet. He wasn't sure if he should follow Izumi into the kitchen or sit down at the table.

"You can sit down at the counter," Izumi said as she rummaged around in the refrigerator. Ed tentatively pulled out a stool and sat on it. He watched Izumi get a bowl out one of the lower cabinets and spoon some solidified beef stew into.

"Do you want anything to drink? We have milk, soy milk, goat milk, skim milk, water, juice?"

"Water's fine," Ed said quickly. He didn't like milk, regardless of what it came from, cow, goat, or bean.

"You don't like milk do you?" Izumi asked, resting her elbows on the counter.

"No," Ed said firmly.

"That's a relief. Most of the kids here adore it. Only problem is that some of them can't drink it, others can't have anything but skim, one of them is allergic to cow's milk, and then Wrath just likes normal milk. It's rather nice that you're not going to contribute to the problem," Izumi said playing with one of her braids.

Ed nodded. The microwave beeped. Izumi took out the bowl of stew and handed it to Ed, along with the spoon she'd used to serve it.

Ed stared at the stew. He pushed it around his bowl before asking:

"Do you have any idea why _he_ sent me here?"

Izumi sighed. She'd hoped to postpone this conversation until morning or later, when she'd figured out a way to say 'your dad's fiancé is a raging homophobic psycho-babbling bitch who considers homosexuality a choice and your dad figured that wasn't the best environment for you.'

"I mean, I know Al and I haven't been getting along great because I'm—because of something, but _he _didn't know about that," Ed continued. Izumi winced. Apparently, Ed didn't know that Hohenheim informed her of Ed's sexuality. Unless, of course, Al and Ed were fighting over something else.

"But why did he just have to leave like that? He just left! Just like last time and it _killed her_!" Ed was shouting at this point. Izumi walked around the counter to stand next to Ed. "And this time he took Al!"

Ed looked down and his hunched shoulders shook with something. Rage? Sobs? Izumi wasn't sure which. Ed drew a staccato breathe in. Izumi placed an arms around his trembling shoulders. He didn't pull away. That was a good sign. Izumi stroked his hair. She smiled, Ed was the spitting image of his father at that age.

…0…

"I'm sorry," Ed said, hiccupping as he wiped his eyes. "I don't—I just—"

"Let's go sit on the couch," Izumi gently interrupted. Poor boy, Izumi thought as she led him to the couch. She mentally ticked off the events: Trisha's dead, Hohenheim about to marry that harpy, Al's mad at him, he's a pyromaniac. Definitely time to book a couple hours at a psychiatrist's office. Ed was going to need it.

Ed sat down willingly and took a tentative bite of stew. He slowly chewed and swallowed it before taking another small bite. Izumi sighed. It was obvious he was trying to avoid a conversation. Oh well.

"I don't know if Hohenheim told you this, but he's currently seeing—"

"Another woman," Ed finished. He stabbed at a potato with his spoon. "Yeah, I know that."

"Ah, well, her name is Sue." May she burn in Hell, Izumi mentally added. "And I believe your dad is engaged to her."

"_Great_. Wonderful, and they live in Washington, with three kids and a dog," Ed said, glaring. "I bet she's really wonderful too. Probably volunteers for charity and does all sorts of real nice things."

Izumi pressed her lips together. The boy had a rather accurate vision of Sue. Though, it probably had more to do with the fact that Sue was Hohenheim's Other Woman, than anything on Sue's part. Izumi intended on fixing that.

"Actually, Sue is a Children and Adolescent psychologist. She works with troubled teens," Izumi said brightly. "However, she's operating with definitions that are about thirty years out of date." Ed gave her a blank look. "She still considers homosexuality to be a mental disorder. Naturally, Hohenheim didn't think it'd be best for you to be—"

"You know I'm gay?" Ed asked, his face ashen.

"Hohenheim mentioned it," Izumi said.

"My da—_he _knows I'm gay?"

"Yes," Izumi said. "That would appear to be the case."

"But I didn't tell him, there's no way he could've known, Al didn't tell him," Ed muttered, not paying attention to Izumi. He took a couple more bites of stew. Then: "So, _he _finds out I'm gay, decides he can't possibly live with me—"

"Actually, it has a lot more to do with Sue," Izumi interjected. "Hohenheim lived and worked in San Francisco. He's perfectly fine with gay people."

"And his stupid mistress, so he takes Al, who's already forgiven him, and dumps me off on the doorstep of the first person he can think of."

Yeah, that's pretty much it, Izumi thought. But she can't say that. Well, she can, but it won't do much for Ed's mental health. She doesn't want to lie, but there has to be some sort of spin she can put on the situation so it doesn't seem as awful as Ed's just described it.

"No, no," Izumi said, shaking her head. "It's not like that at all. Hohenheim and I go _waay_ back. High school and college. I was going to be your godparent, but Hohenheim got into a bit of an argument with the priest, so that didn't happen," Izumi said. It had actually been more than an argument. Hohenheim had punched the priest in the jaw and yelled at him for touching his wife and looking at her. No, the Catholic Church was not particularly happy with Hohenheim.

"Oh," Ed said and stared at his hands. Izumi smiled. There wasn't really much else too explain. She wrapped her arms around Ed. He stiffened before leaning into the touch. Out of habit Izumi stroked his hair. It had been the only thing that seemed to calm Wrath when he arrived at the Curtis household. No other foster home in Chico would take him (something that Sig had been care _not_ to mention to Izumi).

"When you're done put the bowl in the sink and run water over it so the stew bits don't dry on. I'm going to go to bed. You should too after you're done, you have a long day ahead of you," Izumi said before walking out of the living room.

Ed stared after her. She'd left him with so many questions. Like: who was Sig? Why did she get tickets for the 4 o'clock train? Ed knew it wasn't because there weren't other options. He'd checked the timetables. Izumi could have sent him on the train that would allegedly (he was never going to trust the Starlight's times again) leave at nine and he'd have arrived twelve hours later with no loss of sleep.

It just didn't make sense, Ed thought taking a bite of his stew. The stew hadn't suffered from reheating that's for sure.

That's another thing, how can a woman that refuses, or isn't allowed, to touch the stove able to cook something this good.

Then there was Wrath. Ed considered the boy as he ate more of the stew. He was weird. There was no denying that. However, he didn't seem like the kid to take religion too seriously and Ed really couldn't see Wrath being angry or cruel, no matter what his name implied. That led Ed to another question. How on earth does one end up with a name like Wrath anyway? What sort of demented person would name their child after one of the Seven Deadly Sins? Ed thought as he bussed his dish and turned out the light.

That would certainly make his and Al's meeting interesting, Ed thought as he walked down the hall. Al's Catholic and Wrath's namesake is a sin.

They'd probably get along great, Ed reflected digging through his suitcase for his pajamas. Al's so nice and trusting and Wrath's pretty happy-go-lucky.

And with that thought in mind Ed drifted off to sleep, where he dreamed of being chased by a kitten that cried milk and Al and Wrath announced their engagement.

…0…

"Here."

Ed rolled over. It was too early in the morning for Winry to be up. Whomph. Someone had thrown a load of soft things onto Ed. Ed scrambled out of bed. He rubbed his eyes and stared at the pale green walls. Izumi was standing in the corner, hands akimbo.

"Here's one of Sig's smallest shirts and those leather pants of yours. It'll have to do until we can go shopping," she said examining Ed with a critical eye. "Well, don't just lay there, put them on."

Ed scowled, but when Izumi showed no signs of leaving he grudgingly got out of bed.

"Doesn't Wrath have anything?" Ed asked staring at a shirt that was far too big for him. It'd fit him like a dress, a long dress.

"Yes, but it's all in the wash," Izumi said. "I don't think you'd want to wear any of my clothes and it's only until this afternoon."

Ed nodded and reluctantly pulled the shirt over his head. It came down to about mid thigh. Izumi eyed it, obviously not pleased, before muttering "It'll have to do."

"Now come on and eat breakfast," she said in a louder voice. "Wrath has already made a mess of the kitchen and the Cheerios are gone."

Ed sighed and followed her out of the—_his_ bedroom. He wondered if he'd ever be able to fit in here. It was so loud and chaotic.

…0…

The kitchen was even worse. There was batter all over the place, most of it on Wrath's person. A box of Bisquick was out on the counter, along with a pair of beaters. Ed guessed that Wrath had been making something when he thought it would be funny to take the beaters out of the batter while they were moving. It wasn't. Or it had been until Pinako discovered what Winry, Al, and Ed were doing to her surgically clean kitchen.

In addition to the batter everywhere, Cheerios covered the table. At the end of the table a large dark haired man was trying to feed them to a rather unwilling toddler. Several kids raced around Ed as he walked into the kitchen.

Izumi sighed heavily and picked up the box of Bisquick.

"Sig," she ground out. The large man with the toddler looked up and cowered.

"He just wanted to—"

"I told you not to let him bake! Don't you remember what happened last time?" Izumi yelled.

"But he—"

"Had better have the kitchen spotless by dinner time!" Izumi glared at Wrath, who was innocently slurping his Cheerios.

"Here, have some Frosted Flakes," Wrath said pushing a bowl of cereal towards Ed. Thus began Ed's first morning with the Curtis family.

…0…

"Here's your schedule," Izumi said upon finding Ed . He was watching the neighborhood children play through the big bay window. He nodded and glanced at it. It seemed to be accurate. He had band first period. That was surprising. Or maybe not. He'd been forced to pick up an instrument in Juvenile Hall. He'd chosen the piccolo.

He scanned down the rest of the schedule. Geometry, Health, PE, Honors English and Biology. That seemed normal enough. He frowned. There was no Spanish I listed on the sheet.

"Umm, Mrs. Curtis—"

"Call me Izumi," she replied.

"Izumi," Ed tried again. "I'm not down for Spanish I."

"Oh," she said snatching the schedule from Ed's hands. "Hmm. Well, I guess you could take it as an online course and just be tested at the end of the year. How's that sound?"

"Great," Ed murmured and stared out the window. The children were gone.

The doorbell rang. Ed followed Izumi to the door.

"Can Wrath play?" a short mousy haired blond asked. Ed's heart jumped. He looked exactly like Al. Behind him was another, blonder boy about the same height, an extremely tall girl, and a blond boy that look almost exactly like Ed. They were all wearing snow pants, Ed noticed with a pang, and ski jackets. There was no way that he'd be able to join them unless he went shopping with Izumi.

"WRATH!" Izumi bellowed.

"Hey, who are you?" the Al look-alike asked. Ed stared at him.

"Alex, that's not polite," the older girl admonished.

"Oh, it's fine," Izumi interrupted. "You all might as well come on in and meet Ed. You know where everything is."

The girl shifted about nervously and plucked at her vibrant pink jacket, while the older blond boy looked rather eager. The younger one stooped to pet the loudly purring tabby cat.

"Come in. You're letting the heat out," Izumi barked fixing the girl with a glare. She shyly crossed the threshold before urging the rest of them in.

"Kristy! Leave that cat alone and come in," older girl hissed. Ed stared. There was no way he'd have believed the kid in the lime green fleece was a girl. She didn't look feminine at all, and he'd grown up with Winry.

"Oh she can play with Kitty," Wrath said appearing at the doorway. "Bring him inside Kris, he'd probably freezing." Ed watched the older blond boy take off his jacket. Under it he was wearing a brown shirt that clung to his skin. Ed stared.

"So your name's Ed." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah," Ed answered with a shrug.

"I'm Samuel, call me Sam," the blond declared in a confident manner and stuck out his hand. "Nice to meet you."

Ed took the offered hand and was reminded of the day when he'd offered Jeff his hand. Only this time, both hands were clean and Ed was pretty sure there wasn't going to be any licking involved in this introduction.

Ed grasped Samuel's hand and was amazed at the strength in those thin delicate fingers and how easily it fit into his own. It was a nice feeling. He hoped Sam was gay or at least bi.

"Hey, you're left handed too," Samuel exclaimed. "Alright!" Ed smiled. He hadn't noticed that Samuel hand offered Ed his left hand. That definitely explained why it had felt right.

"Yeah," Ed replied weakly. Sam had cute freckles. His hair was nice as well. Instead of being a boring dark blond Ed's, Sam's hair was predominately a bright blond with highlights and low lights. It looked to be rather silky. Excellent for running your fingers through.

"Hey, you look like you're my size" Ed blanched, had he really been that obvious? "And since I just got a new coat for Christmas," Ed raised an eyebrow. It was the 20th. "Well Hanukah—my aunt's Jewish—not the one that's Eliza and Alex's mom, another aunt—They're my cousins by the way. But anyways, since I've got this new coat, you can have my old one, it's still nice and all, I just hate the color," Samuel said walking into the kitchen where Izumi was watching the older girl—Eliza, Ed reminded himself, make hot chocolate for everybody. Apparently boiling water was beyond Izumi's culinary skills.

"And you can probably have some of my old clothes too. I bet I'm going to get a lot of stuff for Christmas and then—"

"Have you asked your mother?" Izumi whirled around to face Samuel, her beads clanked together. Ed flinched. Izumi looked like doom.

"Er, no I haven't. Can I use the phone?" Samuel asked brightly, completely missing Izumi's terrifying look.

"Yes, do that," she snarled before turning to Eliza. "You're sure that's all you do?"

"Yes, Mrs. Curti—Izumi, just fill the kettle with water and turn this knob to high," Eliza said with patient smile. Izumi watched her like a hawk.

"And then," Izumi prompted, leaning over the girl's shoulder. To Ed's amazement she wasn't acting cowed like he'd have expected. Instead she was rather confident. Perhaps she normally instructed adults on how to use the stove. She might teach Russian immigrants about the joys of American cooking at the local community center for all Ed knew.

"Then you empty the packets into the mugs," Kristy said miming the actions from the dining room floor. She, Alex, and Wrath were all centered around the cats in the corner. Ed smiled. If Al had been here he would have been with them in a heartbeat, Ed thought sadly.

"She said it's alright!" Samuel crowed putting the phone back on the hook completely missing Izumi's scowl.

"So, Ed what school are you going to," Samuel asked sitting on a stool. Ed hastily sat next to him. He was a bit loud, but still was the best looking person Ed had seen in weeks, barring That Dream.

"Chico High, which one are you going to Samuel?" Ed asked.

"PV and call me Sam—my least favorite aunt—not the Jewish one _or_ Eliza's mom—calls me Samuel," Sam said. Ed wondered why he'd introduced himself as Samuel if he hated the name. Perhaps he had a desire to be formal, Ed tried to rationalize. Formal could be sexy. Ties were sexy.

"But I'm going to transfer to Chico next year, 'cause both me and Eliza hate it there," Sam said not noticing that Ed wasn't paying any attention to what he was saying.

"Do you play any instruments?" Ed asked, trying to shut Sam up. He really was a chatterbox, something that was not attractive at all. If Ed wanted his ear talked off he'd date a girl.

"Yeah, cello and piano," Sam said proudly. "You don't play the violin do you?"

"Er, no," Ed said. He couldn't see why Sam wanted to know that.

"Good because there's this one girl, she goes to Chico too, and she plays violin. She's really infuriating, too."

"What's her name?" Ed asked, curious.

"Sarka, well that's her real name, she was baptized as Sloth—something to do with her insane grandmother. Anyway, she's not Christian or anything," Sam said, rolling his eyes. "Everyone calls her Sloth. She doesn't just stick to classical music either. No, _she_ has to be different. She plays Celtic fiddle as well."

Ed really didn't see what was so wrong with playing other types of music.

"What's wrong with that? I mean, have you seen how high those violinists have to play? It's insane," Ed said. He should know too, he played the piccolo. It hadn't been his first choice. He wanted to learn the symbols or guitar. But symbols were considered too dangerous for juvenile delinquents and they'd been out of guitars.

"Well, yeah, but if she didn't want to play high stuff than why doesn't she play something like the viola or the cello," Sam scowled. "Watch out for her sister as well. Her name's Insanity. She's a freshman too, but she's a year younger than Sloth. She'll be in band as well. I have no idea what instrument she plays, though."

Ed stared at Sam. He really didn't believe there was a girl named Sloth with a sister called Insanity. That was just too weird.

"They also have a cousin, Envy," Sam said with a shudder. "He's strange, watch out for him as well. Anyway, I'm going to go over to my house and pick up the clothes, 'kay."

"Sure," Ed said, watching Sam leave. He had a really nice ass. The tea kettle whistled and Eliza poured the water.

"Never mind him," Eliza said, turning to Ed. "He's still pissed about that incident at Strings Camp."

"What happened," Ed asked, happy to be talking to someone who wasn't ranting. Sam was so not his type. Never mind how he looked, Ed would never have been able to tolerate him as a boyfriend.

"Well, from what I gather he was teaching her how to play the cello. Which is really odd because he is _so _protective of that thing. He won't even let his mom move it for cleaning. Anyway, he was leaning over, you know," Eliza adding a marsh mellow to her coco. "And I guess they were talking about G-strings, because both violins and cellos have 'em. But these guys apparently saw them, but just their silhouettes (I know, it gets confusing) and they both got teased about."

"But it was a music camp," Ed said. "He was just teaching her how to play."

"He was standing behind her like this," Eliza said, moving behind Ed. She leaned over him, her body pressed against his. She wrapped her hands around him and mimed playing a cello. Ed blushed. Perhaps if he'd taken up the cello instead, Sam could teach… no. Sam was irritating and Sam didn't shut up.

"I can see how that could be misconstrued," Ed said, sipping his coco.

"Yeah, he hasn't been able to shut up about her ever since. He says it's because she's so annoying, but I'm pretty sure it's because he actually likes her," Eliza said stirring her coco. Ed said nothing. There really wasn't anything to say. Aside from the fact that Sam was pathologically straight. Not that Ed minded in the least.

"Not that he'll admit it, or anything," Eliza muttered, staring at her coco. "It's so obvious."

…0…

Like the chapter? Want more? Check out Stupid Cupid, under the pen-name Indigo Potions. It's a collaboration effort between me and indigo oceans. And Stupid Cupid is awesome. I promise. Read, review. Enjoy.


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